


Sunset and Shadows

by Ramzes



Series: Dancing Dragons, Burning Suns [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe to Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:34:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The Robert Rebellion failed, as did the marriage of the Dragon Prince and the Sun Princess. Because the original heads of the dragons shared one father and one mother, not a parentage of three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Parting

Elia Martell left King's Landing in a bright day bathed in sunlight. Many eyes peeked at her with ill-contained curiosity, surprised that she hadn't put on a veil to hide her face, her shame. Their surprise grew when, instead of being crestfallen and weeping all the way, they saw a smooth olive face, wide clear eyes, no puffiness, nothing indicating that she had cried recently.

In truth, Elia herself was quite taken aback when she woke up. She had expected a sleepless night in which she would have mulled all over the nightmare of the last year – but exhausted by agitations, crushed by fear and numbed by sinister anticipation, her body had taken the official ending as a sign that it was finally allowed to sleep. She only woke up when Rhaenys slipped in bed next to her before sunrise. She felt so rested that she couldn't believe it. In fact, her handmaidens who had come to gather the last of her things looked more anxious than her.

It surprised her, how few things she had left after three years of marriage. Most of her belongings, she didn't need and most of the rest of them, she didn't want. They were part of the life she had once led here and that was where they belonged. She hadn't wished for any of her things for Dragonstone to be sent to her either.

"I thought you were going to take the golden sun."

Her first impulse was to spin around and snap at him but she forced herself into calmness. She turned slowly and gave him a cool look. "What made you think so?"

Rhaegar looked away. She had always loved the ball of glass and amber encased in it that he had given her when she had first announced that she was with child. A sun to keep you warm in the mists of Dragonstone, he had said.

"You can take whatever you want, Elia. Everything. I do not wish to hurt you."

She shook her head. His small gestures of kindness could never make up for the way he had hurt her already. "I am taking the most precious things of my time here," she said. "To me, they are the only things worth having."

"They are to me as well, Elia." His voice was insistent. "You must believe me. When Rhaenys was born, I…"

"But they aren't your heads of the dragon," Elia said. "So they're worthless to you. I am happy, indeed. I don't think I could have survived if you had sent me away and kept them."

She was treating him with the same cold courtesy she had displayed ever since he had come back from that joyful tower of his. She had even accepted him in her bed the night before he left for the Trident – only to be told at dawn that when he returned, she'd be sent back home. The three heads of the dragon had to be born to one father and one mother, just like Aegon and his sisters had.

He was still not looking at her, yet Elia got the feeling that should she tell him to, he'd grovel to her to ask her forgiveness. Which only disgusted her. True men did not grovel. Or at least, did not do things that would make them grovel later. It looked like his plans, so clear cut in this tower in Dorne – Dorne! Her blood boiled at the insult – were not so easy to implement now that he had to face his very real family. She really thought that for all his infatuation with the prophecy and the wolf girl he would miss his children. The one that just yesterday had been officially declared bastards. That was the part that would have made her shriek and curse Rhaegar to no end if she was not constantly observed.

"I will miss them," the new King said softly, and Elia smiled.

"Have no care, I have full trust that your new bride and son will be there to comfort you."

He flushed and Elia wondered if the happy future he had envisioned had started falling apart already. At Lyanna Stark's arrival, she had looked at the hastily repaired great hall where Aerys had met his end and laughed – which could not have pleased Rhaegar. Elia knew that he had loved his father once. Despite everything, he grieved for Aerys' death. And Lyanna Stark exulted in it. Elia could not blame the girl but neither could she feel sympathy for either of them.

"Perhaps you should appoint her brother to the Kingsguard when he comes of age," she suggested. Her uncle's death still burned her and she was in no mood to keep her barbs in. "That's what you do, right? I have no doubt that he'll be eager to take the white."

He stared at her face and sighed. "I wish things were different, Elia," he said. "I know you don't believe me but I would have never taken her if you could give me another child."

"You're right," Elia agreed. "I don't believe you. Why are you here, Rhaegar? You want to ask my forgiveness? I do not give it. I wish you luck. I hope you're happy with your sweet love and she gives you all the children you want. But do not dare to expect that you could ever find anything close to understanding from me."

She had not raised her voice but Rhaegar could feel the steel beneath her words. The precipice between them was such that no words of regret could fill it. She would be leaving in less than an hour – a humiliated wife, a queen who had never ascended to her throne, a mother to children who were no longer prince and princess but just Lord Aegon and Lady Rhaenys. Mere courtesy titles, although he intended to make provisions for Aegon when he grew older. It could not be anything too great, unfortunately. He wasn't going to let the Blackfyre rebellion repeat. As much as it pained him, he had to do grave injustice to his children to save the world. The Prince Who Was Promised could not be allowed to waste resources in a battle with an older half-brother with legitimate grievances and means to support his claim.

In the cradle next to Elia's bed, Aegon stirred and Rhaegar hesitated. "I wish you all the happiness in the world," he said. "I cannot imagine anyone more deserving of it."

She paid him no attention and he realized that she had just been humouring him. To her, his words were wind. She was already reaching for the child and he was quick to leave. Since the very moment he had realized that he'd have to give up on his children if he was to get the three heads, he had been distancing himself from them. It would be better if they didn't get attached to him. Unfortunately, it didn't work the other way. He'd carry their absence from his life as a gaping hole that no one, least of all Lyanna, could ever soothe.

 


	2. The End of an Era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

As they went down the marble path, Rhaenys became increasingly excited. She knew and loved that route that usually led her to the gardens and ducking away from her nursemaid's hand each time a particularly bright flower summoned her to. But the more they walked, the more her cheerful shouts faded into the fair of the unknown. They had never walked quite this far and everyone around her was sad. She clung to her mother's skirts.

"Would you come with me, Princess?" an older man asked. For a moment, Elia thought that Ser Oswell Whent who was to accompany them to the gates of the Red Keep for one last time would correct him but to her utter astonishment, the white knight pretended that he hadn't heard. Instead, his eyes were roaming about. Amidst the merciful blur that her mind had become, Elia found the answer and almost laughed. Ser Oswell was no longer bound to protect her and her children, so no one could blame him if he went a little off with his attention when the improper address was still used.

Rhaenys thought about this and then, to her mother's surprise, let go of the silk and extended her arms to Ser Vorian Dayne to take her. Elia smiled a little. "You're very good with children, Uncle," she said. "I am almost thinking of giving you the responsibility of Aegon when the time comes."

The fair face of the older man closed. He looked away quickly, not quite able to hide his anger. "I am only good with girls," he said. "A good thing that I have no son of my own, then. I treated Arthur like a son and look how he turned out. My brother is spinning wildly in his grave, I'm telling you. We don't want another Arthur in our midst, do we?"

By the way Ser Oswell's hand closed around the hilt of his sword Elia could say that he, too, was fighting his anger. No doubt Arthur would get to know about his uncle's words before the day was old. _Let him!_ It wasn't as if he didn't feel the contempt the Dornish in the Red Keep held him in. And it wasn't as if she'd ever see him again to care about his feelings. He had chosen his first loyalty long ago and since his return from that thrice damned tower he had reaffirmed it with every look and gesture, every avoidance of ever being in her company.

And with a shock that left her shaken to her core, she realized that the fact that he had chosen Rhaegar over her hurt much more than Rhaegar's betrayal of her and even their children.

* * *

The light streamed through the crystal windows set high in the walls, so bright that it turned the sept into a ball of diamonds with thousands of sharp thorn-like points that could rip away the eyes of those who were not careful enough. Arthur Dayne was not sure but he thought there were no worshippers today. He made a hesitant step and waited for his eyesight to get used to the uncommon brightness, then stumbled forward, now only half-blind, only to find out that he had come to the wrong statue.

"The Maiden? Really, Ser Arthur?"

The niches of the seven altars provided some darker spots where one could actually see. Arthur jumped back, horrified to find out that he was indeed standing in front of the serene face of the beauty that was the purest face of the Seven. The Maiden was worshipped by maidens. And anyway, he was nowhere pure enough to stand before her. He would stay and watch as the most atrocious sin of all took place, wouldn't he? That was what they did. _Serve, obey, protect_. Not _judge_. Judging wasn't anywhere in their vows.

"I thought you had gone to say goodbye to the Princess," he said.

Violet eyes shot him a look of anger that replaced the broken expression he had seen in them in all those week, almost two months now. Now he could see Daenaera Mallister, a Velaryon by birth and with a good deal of Targaryen and Dayne blood as well in a brief echo of her onetime great beauty, the looks he remembered from the time she had still come to Dorne to visit from time to time.

"Did you really think Elia would have wanted a tearful goodbye to humiliate us both?" Daenaera asked coldly. "I thought you knew the women of our blood better than this. Haven't your grandmother or my mother taught you better?"

Arthur felt stupid. The daughters of King Maekar Targaryen were nothing if not proud and that was two times as true for Elia, with her frail health. If she ever showed anything less than a will of steel, the vultures at court would have eaten her alive.

"I came here to pray," Daenaera said. "Not to the Seven but for those who died to hold and protect her."

Arthur knew what she meant, of course. She didn't mean those who died. She meant a particular man who had died for Elia's and her children's sake.

"You loved the Prince, didn't you?" he heard himself say, to his great horror. He couldn't believe that he had asked.

She didn't look offended, though. "You know I loved him. It isn't such a hard question to answer."

No, it wasn't. The relationship between Lewyn Martell and Daenaera Velaryon, although a closely guarded secret, was one that everyone close to Lewyn in Sunspear knew about and the Kingsguard had worked out almost immediately after his arrival here.

"I guess it's something else that you're wondering about," Daenaera said succinctly. "Why he loved me. That's what you truly want to know, isn't it? A man like him with a woman like me."

Although Arthur had cut off angrily any attempts on his sworn brothers' part to guess what Lady Daenaera had _done_ to Lewyn, he'd like to know the answer himself. Although still nice to look upon, she had been nine years older than the Prince and it had showed. It had not been so obvious when Arthur was a child but at Elia and Lewyn's arrival at court, Daenaera had already been entering old age – and Lewyn had not. It had been blatantly obvious then, yet he had fallen back with her without thinking twice.

"Why?" Arthur asked. He really wanted to know. And of course, he couldn't have possibly asked the Prince.

Daenaera shrugged. "It doesn't matter now," she said. "It isn't as if you can use it anyway. You are a Kingsguard and unlike him, you'll keep to your vows even if the world burns." She paused. "They say it's the Kingsguard in you," she said absent-mindedly. "I say it's my grandfather."

_No, I cannot use it._ _I cannot understand the drive that can bind a man to a woman so powerfully that the years apart and the changes they drew would not matter at all._ Elia's face swam before him, the look she had given him as he returned with the woman who would usurp her, the cold silence so unlike her. _Or can I?_

Daenaera looked away. "And of course, my son cannot use it either. I would have told him what the Targaryens were capable of doing to their own if I had only known he'd be as stupid enough as to come with Brandon Stark."

Arthur looked down, shame burning through him. For a long moment of horror, he wondered if she had been present as Joffery Mallister's death. Aerys had been capable of it – and at the time, Elia had already been brought forcibly from Dragonstone, along with every man and woman of importance.

He tried to think of something good to tell her. But what could it be _? Your surviving son fought with honour? The King was impressed with your son?_ Daenaera didn't care about Rhaegar's esteem.

What was more terrible, neither did Arthur, not truly. Not anymore. So many heartbreaks, so many lives broken – and what for? Had Rhaegar learned nothing from the tragedy surrounding the day of his birth?

"I am sorry about your losses, my lady," Arthur said as that was the only thing he could think of, no matter how insufficient it was.

* * *

 

"She's leaving. She's going out of the door of the Queen's Garden right now!"

The excitement in the girl's voice grated on Arthur's nerves. As far as he could say, even Lyanna Stark hadn't asked anyone to stand guard at the window and inform her of the steps of Elia's departing. All he wanted at this moment was to have all those twittering hens out of here – and their stupid lutes with them! It was beyond indecent, this fluttering of richly clad ladies brought here to attend the little girl who played queen on her stolen throne. At this moment, Arthur was as furious with Lyanna Stark as he was with Rhaegar. All that Rhaegar had to do was whistle, and she had followed his lead, hadn't she? She had delighted in his tales of her being queen and shaping their children's great destiny. After her father and brother's deaths she had… Her tearful explanations had meant as little to Arthur as they had to her brother, the new Lord Stark. Arthur had been disgusted at having to listen to them from the door where he had to guard her as if she were queen already. But this merriment… It was Rhaegar's order, of course, all those festivities were and yet Arthur couldn't stop but wish to wipe this forced cheerfulness from her voice and then turn on the King.

"I still think you should have kept the lady and her children at King's Landing, Your Grace. This way, you're giving Dorne free pass to do whatever they like and the vipers won't miss it."

Tywin Lannister. Instinctively, Arthur reached for his sword but stilled his hand as he waited with bated breath for Rhaegar's reply. All of a sudden, he knew with absolute clarity that the next moment would shape his own fate.

"Let me be the judge on this."

Not a word of reproach. No reminder that those children weren't just Elia's. No attempt to curb one of his lord's tongue as he bedeviled another powerful region. _Wrong answer, Your Grace._

"What are you doing?" the Lord Commander hissed.

Arthur made another step forward and then a third until Rhaegar looked at him. Swiftly, Arthur reached for the brooch that held his cloak at its place and a river of white flowed all the way to his feet.

"What does that mean, Ser Arthur?" The King was watching him intently, angrily.

"You don't need a Dornish viper," Arthur said.

The blatant denying of the King's authority made more than a few people gasp. Rhaegar, though, stayed calm. "Let me be the judge of this."

"No," Arthur stated. "It's about me now. You broke every single promise you made to Dorne and I cannot serve you in good faith. After all that took place, I cannot imagine Dorne would be happy to serve you either." He paused. "Some vows are writ in ink," he said. "And others are steeped in honour and tradition. Blood calls to blood, Your Grace. And yours isn't calling to mine."

It wasn't true, of course. In the King's stunned eyes Arthur saw: it was the first time Rhaegar realized that there was more than the bongs between a noble House and a great House that tied Arthur to Elia. The Targaryen blood flowed in Arthur's veins as well, courtesy of his lady grandmother – but this same blood tied Arthur to Alric Gargalen's children with a _Dornish_ bond. In this brief moment, the entire story between Dorne and the Iron Throne passed before Rhaegar's eyes: the wars, the hatred, the fierce pride that even Elia displayed. _I have hurt him_ , Arthur realized and he didn't care.

"Very well," the King finally said. "Far be it from me to keep your service when you do not wish to give it freely. Leave. Go to Sunspear. To Starfall. Wherever you want. But be aware that once you leave, you cannot come back here. Never."

Was this a threat or promise? Arthur almost laughed at the notion that he might want to come back. Hadn't the misfortunes of Rhaenys Targaryen and the Young Dragon taught Rhaegar nothing about Dorne at all?

He bowed and left, not caring about the stunned looks the other Kingsguard – the Kingsguard – were giving him. The ugly dragon skulls trailed his progress to the door with their dead eyes and he felt relieved when he finally went out into the sun. _So far so good. What am I going to do now anyway?_ He hadn't thought this far ahead. His reverse transformation to a Dornishman who acted first and thought second was a fast one indeed!

Only when he saw the procession going for the last door did he realize that he had been waiting to see them. Rhaenys' voice came to him first, loud and cheerful. "Are we going to visit someone, Mama?"

He could not hear Elia's reply.

Someone looked back, saw him and said something. Elia turned when he was very close already. For a moment the surprise and pain from their first meeting after his return, the one Arthur would never forget in his life, crossed her face like a shadow. Then she took in his pallor and the change in his attire and asked, "Why are you here, Arthur? Where are you going?"

A little away, Oswell was asking silently the same question. Arthur didn't look at him anymore. For him, Oswell Whent didn't exist right now.

"Where are you going, Arthur?" Elia asked and her voice brought back the days when they had been growing up together in the Water Gardens and her constant wish to steal food from his plate without either of them knowing the reason.

"I am going wherever you are going," he finally said, feeling how low and raucous his voice had become. "If you would have me… if Prince Doran would. I could not stay here after…"

He looked away and Oswell returned into view again, his mouth hanging, his caustic humour having taken leave. It was clear that the knight desperately disagreed with this turn of events but he wouldn't say so.

Vorian grinned and gestured at one of his men who came to them with a bag. The older man took out a lilac cloak and clasped it about Arthur's shoulders before nodding approvingly. "I thought you might join us, lad, I did."

Arthur's throat caught. Tactfully, Elia looked away and then extended her arms with Aegon in them. "You can carry him for a while," she said. "If you want to."

"I do," Arthur said immediately.

Both their words sounded like a pledge. They simply didn't know what it was.

 


	3. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to everyone who commented.

When the Prince's Pass disappeared behind them and they were left in the green and blue embrace of the heart of the Red Mountains, Elia looked at Ser Vorian. "Aren't you going to Starfall?" she asked. He looked worse than she had ever seen him. Aging, the battles, and the incredible tension of the last few months when he had been arguing for Elia's cause with the Master of Laws – the thrice damned Jon Connington – pressed him hard. He looked like a man who'd fall asleep the moment his feet touched firm ground.

The Dayne knight shook his head. "I want to know what's going on," he said. "And what will be going on. In time, not relying on ravens and words hidden in words."

"Perhaps you should," Arthur put in, exchanging a look with Elia. Unfortunately, his uncle noticed and gave the reaction they feared and disliked.

"If I want to hear your opinion, lad, rest assured that I'll ask you," Vorian snapped but fortunately decided against pressing the matter further.

Elia stared forward and felt relief when Arthur stormed forward and Vorian kept his sand steed next to her litter. In their group of few who were related by blood or shared past, silence had been an uncomfortable companion ever since they had left the stink of King's Landing behind. Even the most innocent exchange could and did lead to unpleasant clashes.

Vorian sighed and shook his head. "I am sorry," he apologized. "My nerves aren't what they used to be." He looked at Rhaenys and reached out. "Do you want to travel with me?" he asked. Until now, she had always welcomed the chance to have a ride on his stallion but now, she hesitated and pressed against her mother. Elia who had hoped that she could have only one fussy child to deal for a while closed her eyes and resigned to her fate.

* * *

The travel to Sunspear was a long one. They moved slowly because either Elia or the children often got unwell with hotness and shaking. The fact that they didn't stop at any castles was not a great help but Elia would not change her mind. One such was enough – one stay, one night, one supper where tensions ran high, the desire for revenge was discernible, and she was treated like a widow, so very courteously, although she did not have the luck to be one. No matter how her ladies begged her, she did not relent, although she wondered if they had already started to regret their decision to come with her. Her companions at Dragonstone had been divided into three groups: women she had brought over from Dorne upon her wedding, political appointments made for Rhaegar's benefit, and daughters of impoverished highborn families who simply could not afford dowries and had appealed for her to take the girls. The political appointments had stayed behind to serve Rhaegar's new queen and Elia had been ridiculously touched when the huge part of the third group had chosen to join her in her new life.

"Is that Sunspear, Princess?" Coral Hightide now asked, her rosy face alight with expectation.

"It is, indeed, Coral," Elia confirmed, her heart soaring at the sight of the towers, the feeling of being home. It was so exhilarating that she barely noticed the disappointment of the girls who had expected something more like King's Landing or at least Dragonstone.

A few leagues from Sunspear, a party came to meet them and some of the women drew back, startled at the sight of the huge man with the monstrously huge longaxe. Elia smiled, delighted.

"Hotah," she said. After the initial shock, she had grown quite appreciative of the silent Norvosi who had arrived with Mellario eight years ago.

He bowed and something in the way his face relaxed slightly told her that he was relieved to see her here safely. What had everyone expected, that Rhaegar would send Faceless men to kill her on the way? Or that she would simply die of despair?

"The Prince sent me to accompany you to the Old Palace," he announced and Elia's smile died. Only now did she have a good look at his men. Some of them she knew, they had served in her mother's guard. That could only mean that the old Captain Malek she had known from her childhood was no longer.

Silently, she nodded and gestured at her people to keep going. When Hotah asked her to have the curtains drawn, she did not protest and soon was too glad to be ensconced inside where she listened with her heart drumming the roar of the crowds. Never before had she heard anything else but cheers of acclaim aimed at her mother and father, at herself, at her brothers, yet now among the shouts for vengeance against the Iron Throne and raising spears there were quite a few voices against the Targaryens as a whole and against Doran's decision to send people to the Trident, after all. Those who had died had had wives and children, people who had loved them and now cursed Doran's actions and claimed that Dorne should not suffer any Targaryens here. Thankfully, they were not near numerous enough, yet Elia clutched the children to her and counted the moments until the gradual fading of the shouting told her that they were now within the castle walls.

The first person she encountered was her half-sister Loreza Sand. Loreza Gargalen. Immaculately dressed, there was nonetheless something off about her as she embraced Elia and whispered that she was so glad Elia was here safely. She smiled at Rhaenys but the little girl looked at her with distrust and hid behind her mother. And when Loreza's eyes fell on Aegon, the agony on her face was unmistakable. Her own babe would have been his age, had he not died at birth. A child conceived against her wishes but her child nonetheless. Elia clasped her hand and squeezed it.

"Where is everyone?" she asked. She was relieved that there'd be no official welcome but her father? Oberyn?

Loreza shrugged. "I have no idea," she said indifferently. "I suggest that you ask him," she added, nodding at Hotah who followed them, somewhat to Elia's surprise. "He tends to know everything. He might even talk. Unless Doran has forbidden him to."

Her tone was so inimical that Elia could only blink. And then she realized, a little too late, that Loreza was drunk, terribly drunk, so drunk that the seeming control she had over her demeanor would fall apart any minute.

"Come on," their father's voice said from a door in the family wing, startling them both. "Let's go to Elia's chambers."

Loreza glared at him, spun back and stalked away, enraged. Hotah trailed her.

"What's going on?" Elia asked, amazed, and entered

"She's beyond reason," Alric Gargalen replied wearily. "She's mad with grief. Come here."

He took her in his arms and Elia was startled to feel just how tight his embrace was. His relief knew no limits. But when they broke apart, Elia became more worried. Over the course of three years and a half, her father had aged beyond belief but the change in his expression was worse. There was no fire in his eyes, no trace of the liveliness that had shone even in his darkest hours. He seemed too exhausted for the rage against Rhaegar that she had expected.

"I'm so happy to see the three of you here safely," Alric said and his eyes became even softer as they took the children in; horrified, Elia realized that he looked even _pleased_ by their arrival, by having the chance to have them near. What has befallen him? She looked at Vorian and saw her own dismay writ on his face.

"Where is Doran?" she asked. "Where is Oberyn?"

Alric didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze was drawn to the turn of the hall where two big curious eyes peeked from. "Arianne," he said and smiled. "Come here, child. Come and meet your aunt."

The little girl came forward hesitantly and smiled at Vorian whom she clearly had seen before; in answer, he bowed officially. Arianne gave Elia a fast look and then whispered something to her grandfather.

Alric shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't know when your father is coming back."

"But he _promised_!" Arianne insisted, louder now. "He said he'd be back before noon and he never lies. I thought it was him when I heard someone arrive…"

"He'll be back before you know it," Alric promised. "And in a few days, we'll be leaving for the Water Gardens. Are you coming with us? Your mother will be glad to see you."

Elia missed her niece's reply because the part about the Water Gardens had alarmed her even more. After the insult Rhaegar had done her and the children, her father's answer was to… go to the Water Gardens and let Doran deal with the problem without meddling? By the Mother! Had his mind grown feeble? Her fear for him pushed away the devastation of Rhaegar's betrayal, the first thing to have done so since Lyanna Stark's abduction.

* * *

She woke up when it was already dark. She was starving, so starving that she could even show up at the evening feast and withstand the curious looks, the sympathy, and the rage on her behalf if she had to. But fortunately, she didn't. Coral arrived almost immediately, followed by a maidservant Elia did not know. On the tray, there were foods that she remembered from childhood and some that she had gotten accustomed to at Dragonstone.

Her surprise must have shown because Coral smiled and said, "The Prince your brother asked what you liked to eat before, Princess. He said you might have gotten unused to Dornish food now. I thought it was very considerate of him."

"Right," Elia agreed between two mouthfuls. "Which brother?" she asked and scolded herself for the slight disappointment she felt when she was told that it had been Doran.

"The feast is going on," Coral went on, eager to introduce her to everything that was happening. "But Princess Arianne threw a fit when she saw that her father wasn't there so that huge captain had to carry her out… she isn't scared of him at all, can you believe it?"

Elia could but she was not about to say so. Instead, she forced herself to listen to the girl's chattering, pleased that Coral had found something like a niche for herself so soon after their arrival; but as soon as good manners would allow, she sent her away, checked on the children who were sleeping soundly in small beds next to hers and donned a silken robe with a sigh of delight. It felt so nice and loose! She had missed those so!

Coral's news had let her know that when Doran didn't attend the evening feast, he usually worked in his study, so that was where she went now. Her legs trembled a little after such a long time in her litter and for a while, she stood near the door to regain control over her limbs. The scene in front of her made her smile despite the sharp pain brought out by the realization that it was no longer her mother's study, that in Arianne's place, Doran sat now, engulfed in a bunch of parchments, a quill in his hand. On the carpet, not far away from him, little Arianne was playing with a bunch of parchments of her own, probably given by him; amused, Elia saw that the girl was imitating her father, his frown, the pressing of his lips and the swift running of his quill along the parchment. From time to time, Arianne would crawl to him and butt him with her head; he would push her away absent-mindedly, as he would have chased away a pup, and she would return to her parchments, pleased to no end.

Elia stood and watched them, feeling how a part of the ice cube crushing her heart melted. But when Arianne's next assault was accompanied by a fierce growl and Doran asked, "What are you today, a cat?", she couldn't help it: she laughed.

Both Arianne and Doran turned to her; Arianne glared and went to sulk into a corner; Doran quickly rose and came to Elia, took her face between his palms, gave her one of those looks that long ago, when she had been Arianne's age, had made her think he could see into her head. Clearly assured that she was fine, he sighed and drew her near. And then the rest of the ice cube melted away, pouring out in the tears that she had contained since the very beginning of the horror: when she had been told that Rhaegar had disappeared with his wolf girl, when she had been seized from her chambers and dragged to King's Landing to soothe Aerys' fears, when she, along with everyone else, watched him burning people in the hall that she was so glad she'd never see again, when, right before Rhaegar left for the Trident, he told her, eyes cast down, that she would never be his queen and their children would be no more than bastards, when she thought of so many of her kin who had died so Rhaegar could satisfy his lust for prophecy and grey eyes, when she had left King's Landing, when Rhaenys asked why her father hadn't joined them… Finally, she could afford the luxury to cry.

When she had cried herself dry, the candles were already burning out. Doran moistened a piece of fabric in a small bown and wiped her face. Elia sighed and took a seat on the couch. "Don't replace them," she said unnecessarily since it wasn't what he was doing anyway.

He took a seat next to her and took her hands in his own.

"I suppose I am being ungrateful," Elia said after a while. "At least we're alive. I saw so many others dying in horrifying ways…"

"Not ungrateful at all."

"Let her have him," Elia said with sudden anger. "I wish her all the happiness marriage with him gave me. She's in for a big surprise. Rhaegar doesn't know how to be happy."

_And do you?_ Doran was scared of the answer, so he didn't ask. His fear that the horror she had been through had changed her as it had everyone else gripped and choked him.

"At least we're home," she said after a while, more calmly.

_For all the good it'll do you_ , Doran thought and as if she had read his thoughts, Elia asked, "What's going on, Doran? We haven't been in touch for a long time and I find so many changes here. Father sounded… he looked like a common smallfolk pleased to have his daughter and grandchildren close. Loreza was drunk and I don't remember her ever having undiluted wine. She seems to hate Hotah, of all people. Mellario is in the Water Gardens… What's going on?"

"What not," Doran replied. "You're right about Father. He spends most of his time in the Water Gardens and he refuses to take interest in anything other than his grandchildren. Mother's death was only the beginning of everything that went wrong for him… He's not the same person, Elia. He's changed."

Elia wetted her lips, suddenly terrified that he'd tell her the truth about the rest of her observations. To prevent it, she asked, "Is there someone in this family who has kept their head in all of this and can be relied upon?"

"Yes. Oberyn," Doran replied and she stared at him aghast. Oberyn, the beacon of normalcy? Had they really become this desperate? "He's away to bring us another one," he went on and Elia blinked.

"I do not follow you."

"Another niece," Doran elucidated. "This one is half-Volantene. Nymeria, she's named. It looks like her mother is getting wed and her family no longer wishes to take care of the child."

_The family? Or the mother?_ Elia wondered bitterly.

"Well, we'll welcome her, of course," she said weakly. She had already heard about the whore's whelp from Oldtown and the little girl of the sea captain. And of course, she knew Tyene who had been brought to them when she and Arianne had been still in their cradles.

By the Seven, her own children had been welcomed in the exact same way Oberyn's girls had been, would be. They, who had been meant to rule the Seven Kingdoms… Great fatigue fell upon her. She closed her eyes. That was the truth: she and her children were no one, just as dependent on Doran's mercy as Oberyn and his girls were. With the distinction that Oberyn could do something useful for Dorne, of course…

Not letting her out of his sight, Doran saw the change in her face. Despite her closeness to Oberyn, it was Doran who she resembled more in mindset, so he had no trouble reading her thoughts. _Do not be afraid, your son will be king and his good for nothing father and the she-wolf will pay for what they did to you,_ he wanted to say but he recognized that in this state, she could not bear to think of plans and vengeance, and hope of birthrights. That, least of all.

But he didn't dare give her time to dwell on her downfall either.

"I'll leave that to you," he said lightly. "I'm sure you'll do a great job."

Elia opened her eyes and looked at him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

He handed her a goblet of water and poured another for himself. He wasn't quick to answer. "I'm placing you in charge of organizing the events on the highest level in the household of the Old Palace and the Water Gardens, from time to time. Oh, and running the household. The Seven see that Mellario isn't very good at that… when she bothers to show up, that's it," he added, with a touch of bitterness. "You can start tomorrow."

"I was thinking of going to the Water Gardens," Elia declared.

"So have I," Doran agreed. "Alas, I haven't done my share of work to go there for a rest. And you haven't even started. Put your charm and organizing abilities to good use, and we can find ourselves on our way there before Oberyn returns with the newest addition to the family."

Charm. Organizing abilities. Meeting people. People who would _know_. People who would pity her. Elia stared at her brother, wondering if this was some kind of cruel jape.

It wasn't.

She rose. "No," she stated simply, without bothering to raise her voice. "Out of question. I am not doing this."

"I am sorry but you are."

"Why?" Elia burst out. "What the hell do you need me for?"

_For rebuilding your confidence. For making people see you for what you are. For not hiding away in the Water Gardens because the longer you hide away, the harder it'll be to emerge back._

"For bringing this palace back to normal," Doran said instead, because this, too, was true – and too an important truth.

"With charm and organizing abilities?" Elia mocked. Those hadn't been enough to make Dragonstone a normal place, had they? People had come and gone, taking away the memory of the charming, elegant, hospitable and oh so kind queen in waiting – but that hadn't gotten her a throne. Just repudiation and shame. "Don't you have a wife and a castellan for that? Are you so desperate that you need _my_ charm? And since when has charm been needed for anything of note?"

"Since the beginning of time," Doran snapped back. "But those who have been born with it never notice that, do you? Only those who lack it, like me, can appreciate it. Listen, I cannot force you to take Loreza's place…"

" _Loreza's?"_ Elia interrupted and Doran waved an impatient hand.

"Loreza's, of course! Mellario won't be fit for the role in a hundred years. She does have the charm but she has no grasp of politics and no idea how to rule a Dornish household. Basically, it was Loreza doing the work and Mellario playing hostess. It worked until Loreza lost herself in despair. And even if she hadn't, she wouldn't help me. She blames me for her sorrow… but let's leave that for another time, shall we? For now, think of that: charm is a talent. Drawing people to you is a gift. And it takes lots of brains to know how and when to tell something without offending any of the people who'd gladly leap at each other's throats. To make them want to come back and think favourably of us. You know as well as I do that Mother planned her receptions as carefully as she did her politics – and it wasn't because she enjoyed them so much. It's a job like any other, it isn't for everyone and I happen to think you excel at it. I hate to see people losing their time with no better reason than someone else's infatuation with a pair of wild eyes or whatever drew Rhaegar to that girl."

Elia swallowed, wildly and unreasonably scared. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, of course she did, but both she and Oberyn got stunned by the moments they managed to provoke Doran to anger, simply because it almost never happened.

Still, it wasn't his anger that prompted her to give his demand some serious consideration. It was the general mood of unhappiness, of desperate sorrow that marred the home of her childhood. No one was the person she had left anymore. Smiles didn't seem to come easily – they didn't come at all… People blamed Doran for making the only decision he could have done at the time – helping Rhaegar without knowing what her husband's intentions about her were. His relationship with Mellario seemed to be deteriorating. She didn't need to think hard of why he would keep Arianne here instead of send her to the more cheerful Water Gardens .

"Fine," she finally said. "I'll give it a try."

He gave her one of his rare smiles. "Thank you," he said simply. "And do me another favour, would you?"

"What is it?"

"Before you start, give yourself a good look in your looking glass and stop presenting yourself as the cast aside wife of a man who cannot hold a candle to you."

Elia burst out laughing, so hard that Arianne looked away from the corner where she was playing with her newest friend – a fluffy monkey Oberyn had brought her from Essos a year ago. Oh that was so typical of Doran. Never witty as Oberyn, he looked genuinely puzzled when he said things that were funny beyond belief. Because he didn't know they were.

Well, in this case he couldn't know anyway.

"Oh yes," she agreed. "Soon, Rhaegar Targaryen will know just how little he can hold a candle to me."

Doran didn't understand what she was talking about, of course. How could he? But he believed her immediately anyway – another thing that she loved about him. "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken?" he said.

"Indeed," Elia agreed and squeezed him in an impulsive hug.

Despair, fear, and humiliation gave a temporary retreat.

Finally, for the first time since crossing the Prince's Pass, she felt that she was home.

 


	4. First Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and sorry for the delay! Work found me on my way to my HOLIDAY and balancing them is hard. Did you know a person needs about 8 hours of sleep EVERY day? Go figure! So it was hard to squeeze fics in.

"Monster!"

Rhaenys' shriek took Elia unawares. Startled, she shot from the couch she had been napping on and looked around, terrified. Thank the Mother, her daughter was safe and sound.

"What?" Elia asked, holding her close, and the little arms pressed her like a vice. "What did you see? Was it a shadow?"

"No, unfortunately," a voice said. "She saw me…"

Cold wrapped her like the arms of the Stranger. All of a sudden, she wished she could pull a Rhaenys and hide her face in someone's shoulder, instead of facing what she knew was about to come… but she wasn't a little girl, so she stroked her daughter's hair and slowly turned her head to the door, careful to keep her face in the shadows, just in case.

He stepped forward, slowly, awkwardly and painfully. Just by looking at his stance, Elia could say that her half-brother would need many more months to regain some smoothness to his motions if he regained it at all. Her eyes went upward and she did her best to keep her face impassive even as she stared at the ruin that his had become. He had been badly scarred at seventeen and somehow, the fresh scar partially overlapped the old one and was going further down, tugging one end of his mouth down in addition to the formerly scarred eyelid. The jagged swelling had disgusting lilac colour that would probably never fade – that _was_ its faded state. He did look like the monster Rhaenys had thought him.

Staring at him, Elia realized why their father had chosen to close himself for the world, and her heart ached.

"I am sorry," Elvar said. "I just wanted to see you. I should have figured out that she…" He paused. "I'll come later when she's been put to sleep."

His voice was level, yet there was something off about it. He couldn't articulate his words quite properly. That damned Trident!

"I didn't know you were well enough to rise," Elia said. "I was going to visit you this afternoon."

He shrugged. "From time to time, I manage to scare Maester Caleotte off, along with his potions. They block the pain but they also block my mind, so…"

His good eye went to Rhaenys's dark head; sickened, Elia realized that he wasn't even surprised by her horror. Children had been staring at him in fear for years. He was accustomed to it.

It just didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

"I am happy to see you safely here," Elvar said, turned back and disappeared down the hall, his limp pronounced. Elia fought back tears.

"Monster!" Rhaenys whimpered again.

"No," Elia soothed. "No, dear heart, it's just your uncle Elvar. He's a good, good man. Often, monsters don't look it. They're charming. They look caring. They even play the harp…"

Gradually, Rhaenys' sobs quieted and Elia's horror grew. Had she gone this far? Was she going to feed her children her own bitterness? She immediately decided to work against it.

* * *

"Arthur," Doran sighed. "What am I to do with you?"

Arthur swallowed. The Prince had not raised his voice for a moment. His manners were polite and contained, his face so blank that one might think it friendly. Arthur was not about to make this mistake. Doran Martell was as dangerous a snake as Oberyn, just in a different way. For one, he never hissed. He didn't give a warning.

"Punish me," Arthur suggested.

"I might," Doran agreed, just as mildly as before. "After all, you did betray all of us by betraying Elia. You do realize that had we known how close this girl was, the war might have ended quite differently? Perhaps much _earlier_?"

No warning indeed. And no mentioning of the Dornish lives that might have been spared. Doran didn't need to mention them.

Not even Elia had dared…

"How dare you!" he burst out and made an impulsive step towards Doran's chair. The words burned through him with excruciating echo of dark anger, mostly because they were a reflection of what he had told himself hundreds of times during the last months and before.

Vorian didn't move from his place near a column – he knew that Doran was in no danger from Arthur, albeit he seemed quite angry with the Prince himself, for some reason; Hotah, though, made a quick step forward and Doran raised a hand to stop him. He retreated, giving Arthur a suspicious look that he returned in full measure.

"Couldn't you take me back?" Arthur suggested in a moment and Vorian laughed at the impudence. "After punishing me and everything. Just don't send me away from Dorne."

Doran looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Send you away from Dorne? Now, that's a good idea. Thank you, Arthur."

He was baiting him and Arthur wasn't going to fall for it… much. Princess Arianne had been unpredictable at times, making people believe that they had gotten away with something only to tug the carpet of their reassurance from beneath them a moment later.

"Do sit down," Doran invited.

Arthur startled. "What?"

"Take a seat," the Prince repeated impatiently. "And a goblet of wine if you like. It's hot."

Flabbergasted, Arthur did sit down and when he looked around, it dawned upon him for the very first time that they weren't in the Tower of the Sun where sentences were proclaimed and grave matters discussed. Doran's stern expression had somehow made him forget that they were in the Prince's own solar, with the many multi-coloured pillows, heavy curtains keeping the worst of the sun away, and a small fountain in a corner providing some relief from the heat. Arthur noticed a few toys lying haphazardly around. The little princess?

Vorian came near and poured the three of them some Dornish red. Somehow, here it tasted better.

"I don't blame you, you know," Doran finally said. "You did betray us but I doubt it was your idea or your wish. I don't think you cherished doing it."

"Not at all," Arthur admitted. "Does it make a difference?"

"I don't know."

Doran left the goblet and looked at Arthur straight in the eye. "Will you be loyal to us?" he asked simply, as if he was inquiring if Arthur would pour him some more wine.

Arthur replied with equal simplicity, "I will."

He did not offer an oath and Doran didn't demand it. "Did you know?" he asked instead.

Arthur didn't understand. "What?"

"Did you?"

In the silence, a dog barked in the yard under the window. Arthur stared at Doran, at his uncle, at the tapestry depicting Nymeria's victory at his left. "I didn't," he finally said. "I disliked his infatuation with the girl immediately but I didn't know that he'd do what he did to Elia."

"How could you have?" was all Doran said.

But shouldn't he have? Perhaps Rhaegar had let out some hints? Something that Arthur had overlooked because he could not have imagined such a monstrosity? Or had the new King been cautious, keeping to himself, just like he had done when going to Summerhall all on his own? Or had he told Oswell but distrusted Arthur?

What did it matter, by the Seven?

_One day, it won't_ , Arthur promised himself.

Doran studied him. "Up until now, I had no way to know if I could trust you, Arthur, and you know this. There was simply no way to ascertain your true loyalties."

The implication made Arthur bristle. He half rose from his seat before regaining control. "It's nothing," he told in the Norvosi man's direction and sure enough, Areo Hota had almost reached them somehow which was amazing for a man of his size. "How does he tolerate Oberyn around you?" he wondered aloud with morbid curiosity.

Doran's lips curled in something like a smile. "With some effort," he said.

Arthur could just imagine the scene. The fact that the Red Viper still hadn't tried to kill Hotah was something that he could not explain, though.

"My loyalty is to Dorne," he finally said. "As it should have been all this time."

He waited for his uncle to cut in with, "Your grandmother and I told you this a long time ago" but Vorian didn't. Gods, how pitiful Arthur had to look if his blunt uncle was being tactful!

Doran nodded. "I guess you'll have the chance to not have a division of loyalties," he said. "That's your last chance to change your mind. You can go back at this moment, and no one will stop or harm you. But if you stay, it'll be forever. Because Dorne will not be part of the Seven Kingdoms anymore. And if you betray us, you'll be judged and condemned, and punished like every other traitor."

"Don't do it!" Arthur almost yelled. "That's what he wants!"

Despite everything, he felt a little bad for revealing Rhaegar's thoughts to his enemies. But he had chosen a side; he could as well stick to it. His honour had not exactly brought his people much good this far; when they had found Lyanna Stark – and Arthur, to his shame - so close to them, it had already been too late to use this leverage to turn the tide. No use to keep to it now when peace was at stake.

And then, something so peculiar happened that Arthur almost gaped. A quick look at his uncle confirmed that Vorian was seeing the same thing he did: the smile on Doran's face looked remarkably like the grin Oberyn wore when he had something particularly vicious in mind. But just a heartbeat later, the expression disappeared, replaced by concern and reluctance.

"I know he does," Doran agreed. "But do you think he can actually just let us be and forget about us? Elia might actually like it if we just secede from the Iron Throne and she can raise her children in peace – for now, at least, she just needs some rest – but do you really think the rest of the Seven Kingdoms will obediently forget about Rhaegar's true heir just because he's trying t?"

He paused. "And besides, we can ill afford the peace Elia would have liked either. Such an offense is too great to swallow. All Dorne will be in utter unrest if we do not react. It's bad enough as it is."

Arthur pondered on this. It was true, a good deal of the discontent on the streets was due to the fact that Elia had been shamed so – but another part, and not a small one, was aimed at what some people already perceived as Dorne's inertness. At King's Landing, Rhaegar might be secretly content with having them out of his peace but that would mean losing face with his own lords.

In fact, neither Doran or Rhaegar truly had a choice in this.

"Besides," Doran said, smiling for real this time, "I know something that Rhaegar doesn't, and it will turn the tide in our favour, eventually. I am very glad you could make it out of King's Landing before he suspected it."

Vorian leaned forward, his face eager. "So, am I finally to learn why I had to give up on arguing with this new Master of Laws and let him trample on the marriage any way he liked?" he asked. "I did not cherish it, let me tell you!"

Doran didn't look sympathetic. "Yes," he finally said. "You'll learn it. Both of you," he added, looking at Arthur. "Your last chance? Are you ready to throw your lot in with us? Because if you aren't, that's the moment you leave."

Arthur swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Seven hells, changing his loyalties back to where they belonged was harder than he had expected!

"Yes," he said.

* * *

"By the Mother, you look terrible!"

That was the welcome Loreza offered her aunt Lady Ranna the moment Carral Gargalen's widow set a foot in Elia's private chambers.

"Loreza!" Elia scolded although she secretly agreed with the notion. Ranna looked aged and crestfallen, the skin on her face too big for her, her hands mere bones, so thin that she could wear none of her jewels without mending them. Her normally fair skin was now yellow, her brown eyes sunken and dull. Elia was becoming accustomed to seeing people crushed and brokenhearted. That was what her glorious match had brought upon.

"I am so happy to see you, Aunt", she said, coming to embrace her tentatively, suddenly scared that Ranna, no matter how irrational it was, might blame _her_ for her losses.

The thin arms gathered her and Elia felt with relief that the strength of the embrace had not changed at all. "I came as soon as your letter arrived," Ranna said. "What _else_ is wrong?"

"How does Alynna fare?" Loreza asked. Ranna was coming straight from Starfall where her daughter now resided – newly widowed, a mother of a babe of few months, a Dayne bride. And terribly unhappy, no doubt.

"Poorly," Ranna replied and her expression clouded. "She'll be fine at the end, I expect. But the babe is too small. And sickly."

That was what a starving mother did to a babe in the womb. There was nothing the two young women could say.

Ranna took a seat on the couch and Loreza pressed a cup of tea in her hand. Elia took her feet in her own lap to give them a rub, like Ranna had done to them for years. Her Essosi aunt was natural at healing, relieving pains.

"You were the one who helped her… when he was being born, weren't you?" Elia asked, her voice completely even. "Doran said you'd tell me about it."

Ranna sighed with relief at the massage without opening her eyes. "She was too young to give birth safely," she said. "I have no idea what Rhaegar was thinking. As to her, I don't think she knew what birth would be like at all. She was so very scared."

She said it without any sympathy, although she was known to readily soothe and calm down mothers in pangs of childbirth. First time mothers particularly. But Lyanna Stark – no, Queen Lyanna – was another matter altogether.

"She didn't want me there, of course," Ranna went on. "She was quite sure I'd try to kill her and her babe. We'd had our clashes beforehand."

Ranna and clashes? Ranna having clashes with someone heavy with child was another thing Elia had to learn to adapt to in this new world. Now, Alynna… Elia could well imagine what her cousin had thought – and done! – when Lyanna Stark had been brought to Starfall from her tower, under guard of both Dayne and Martell men.

"It must have been terrible, having someone attend you whom you don't trust," she said.

"I hope so," Ranna said coldly. "I helped her get out of the Stranger she had invited to feast upon her and that's the best she could have expected of me. If I was praying that your Seven would curse her and her son the way they cursed me and mine, that was none of her business."

Aegon stirred on the pillows he was sleeping on. Elia started to rise.

"No," Loreza said quickly. "I'll go."

She was sober this time. And she was doing her best to get used to Aegon despite the pain looking at him brought her. Elia let her but watched her nonetheless.

Ranna gave Elia a calm look. "She won't give Rhaegar another babe," she said. "Ever."

Elia swallowed, her head swimming. But she was not entirely shocked. The thought of that had been nagging her ever since Arthur had told her that Ranna had assisted the maester of Starfall at the birth of Lyanna's child. Each babe the Northerner could produce was a further rival and threat for Elia's children. That was what Elia would have wanted done if she had been kept informed.

"What did you do?" she asked.

Ranna shook her head. "I didn't need to," she said. "That was what Doran and I had planned but the birth was so hard that I didn't dare act out of fear for her own life. Only R'hllor knew what Rhaegar would have done if she died here, in Dorne."

Elia snorted. She could well imagine – or rather, she couldn't. Her caring husband had turned into a stranger, consumed by the flutters of first love and the might of his prophecy. _He'd never have believed that his strong warrior woman could die of such a simple thing as childbirth that didn't even kill me._

" All I wanted was to get her through that alive. And I wanted this child to live," Ranna went on. "I am no murderer of babes."

She said it so forcefully that Elia understood – she _had_ contemplated the idea of letting both Lyanna and her unborn child to die. She felt sick; for a moment, she marveled at Doran's ruthlessness.

"I am sorry," she said softly. "He should never have put you in this position. I can only imagine how hard you had been fighting yourself."

Ranna did not answer immediately. Loreza came back, Aegon now sleeping again, and took her hand.

"It was hard," she finally said. "All the time I kept seeing them – Carral, Maurel… yet I had to keep fighting for her life for days."

"And yet you say you have nothing to do with her barrenness."

This time, Ranna did not hesitate. "I do not. When he was born, with good colour and a lusty cry, I stood and wondered what I should do to deaden her womb without killing her. I could think of nothing. And then she started bleeding and I thought, _That's it. She will die._ I could not staunch the bleeding with any of the means I normally use." She paused. "I took her womb out and I knew of no way of replacing it. She will never have monthly bleeding again and she will not have further children."

"But she'll have her life," Loreza said sharply. "Unlike Maurel and Uncle Carral. Do not pity her."

Ranna looked startled. "Was that what I was doing? Never again, I assure you."

She looked so terrified at the notion that it was downright funny. Would have been if they weren't talking deadly suspicions and war that could consume – had consumed – tens of thousands.

And then, it was not funny at all. Elia went white. Fear for Ranna prompted her to ask hesitantly, "And after that… removing… can she…?"

The kind aunt she had known all her life would have been rightfully insulted at the notion but this Ranna only smiled with the pride Elia had felt when overcoming her own restraints. "I did think of that," she said. "While my husband and son were dying, she might have been in his arms, careless of the world. But at the end, I couldn't do that to another woman, even her. She can lie with him as pleasurably as I was able to assure .I did my best to save her… err, function in this regard. Albeit a huge part of me wanted to just butcher her, you can trust me on this."

Elia sighed and felt the weight of the world falling from her shoulders. "I am glad," she said simply.

Loreza nodded in agreement. "You did the right thing, Aunt," she said. "You're a good woman."

Ranna only stared at her. Being good was such a poor second best to having the one she loved with her. Being good did not override having her son alive. Loreza knew it as well. But they could no longer have those things. Being good was all that was left to them – and Loreza was still young enough to not accept it, as if by misbehaving she could reclaim all that she had lost. But in her heart, she was still the kind girl Ranna had known for all those years.

Now that the matter of what Ranna might be capable of was settled, Elia was ready to think of the complications Lyanna's state would bring, both good and bad. Of Rhaegar waiting month after month for something that would not happen. A small feeling of triumph took root within her, moved her fingers, made her smile.

Her aunt whose eyes missed nothing, asked calmly, "When is your babe due?"

Elia and Loreza looked at each other. "In four months," Elia replied. "He laid with me the night before he left for the last battle." She paused. "How did you know?"

"Nothing else could have prompted you to summon me so urgently! Why didn't you tell him?"

"I didn't know," Elia replied. "I hadn't had a monthly bleeding since I conceived Aegon. And I didn't actually gain any weight for many months." She looked speculatively at her still quite flat belly. "It was only on my way here, when I started getting sick on the road, that I thought that might be the case. Usually, traveling makes me tired but it never makes me sick. I felt what I thought was movement last week. And they haven't stopped." Her face became concerned. "Perhaps it isn't a babe after all. Perhaps I am just getting tight in my skin because of everything that happened. Or it could be an ailment. Or…"

"Let's see," Ranna said and called for some water to wash her hands thoroughly. She would not say anything beforehand but even if it was not an ailment but a babe, things might not turn out good. Elia could not be so far along and her belly so small with a healthy babe and healthy self.

 


	5. The Day to Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented. I am pleased I could finally squeeze this in!

Elia woke up to the sound of whispering somewhere at her left.

Startled, she tried to rise and blinked in the faint sunlight, having no idea where she was. The fact that her sheets rustled like… well, paper didn't help much.

A moment later she realized that she was in her own room at Sunspear. The sun was blocked by additional set of curtains meant to help her rest better and the sheets rustled like paper because there were papers all around her. Elia quickly reached to gather them, terrified at meeting the head librarian's wrath. The man had been serving her lord grandfather and even her mother had treaded carefully about him.

She had spent another night reading of rituals and arrangements all over the known world. If they were to announce Dorne's removal from the Seven Kingdoms, then Elia would play her part by helping create a display to be remembered.

She looked at the hourglass and gasped. It was three hours past dawn! She had rarely overslept so. No wonder she felt as hungry as she did.

_The babe wants its share_ , she thought and smiled. Just last night as she had been closing her eyes and getting comfortable, she had felt a slight stirring inside, as if her child was also getting comfortable. Suddenly, she wanted him or her out, on the right side, to see them getting comfortable safely in her arms instead of the dangers that waited to pounce at them in the womb.

She had the vague memory that at some point at night, Rhaenys had sneaked in her bed but she didn't even have the vaguest recollection of her leaving – which she must have done because the bed was empty save for Elia herself. Elia parted the bedcurtains and smiled again with joy and delight at the sight of the two faces in front og her.

"I didn't know you'd be here!"

Her grandmother smiled and shook her head. "Really, girl! Where else could I be? I arrived about an hour ago."

And she had lost no time at all in getting bathed and changed. Elia squinted at her and shivered at seeing how frail and haunted Daella Gargalen looked despite the energetic movements and the no nonsense attitude that normally made her look much younger. The lines in her face ran more deeply and there was bleak despair leaking its way through her determined violet eyes. Her sister Rhae Dayne was no better.

Elia rose and they came close to hug her.

"You shouldn't have traveled in such haste," she scolded, knowing that this was what they have done, and the two women burst out laughing. Elia shook her head.

"Did you really think that an event this important could take place without them?"

Initially, Elia decided that she was hearing her own thoughts – before she recognized the voice. "Ashara!" she cried out.

And there she was, looking up at her from where she and Coral Hightide had been examining some dresses for her to wear – Ashara, in the full bloom of her youth and beauty, with the winning smile that could make everyone forgive her everything. Elia held her tight. "I am so happy that you're here," she whispered. "That you're well. You are, aren't you?"

"I am," her younger cousin assured her. Looking at her, Elia was not quite sure she fully believed her. But why not? The child that Ashara had lost had not been a wanted one. And it had not even been a real babe yet. "I couldn't wait to see you. And Rhaenys as well," she added and smiled. Since the little girl had been born and when Elia had been bedridden, she had been doting on Rhaenys.

_She'll feel even better when Doran announce the secession_ , Elia thought. _The North brought her nothing but heartache._

Coral threw the curtains open and looked at Elia for approval. The Princess nodded and noticed that the girl stayed where she was, glancing furtively at Daella and Rhae whose presence seemed to unsettle her.

"What ails you?" Elia asked with directness that took the golden-haired girl aback. "Is it the rumours?"

A furious flush overcame Coral's fair face. Slowly, she came close and stood in the beam coming from one of the windows in the ceiling – Elia's wish for her fifteenth nameday. Albeit surprised, her parents had let her make all the changes that she wanted in her room. It had now been renovated and most of the furniture replaced but the vaults and half-moon walls could only be removed by some other major structural changes.

"Indeed, people say that Prince Doran is going to… That Dorne is no longer going to be part of the Seven Kingdoms," she finished, looking at Daella and Rhae again. Quite sensibly, she had deduced that the arrival of two ladies of such high birth could only speak of something very important happening. Very soon.

Daella took a seat in a chair not far away from Elia's bed. Rhae and Ashara seated themselves right on the bed.

"Does it trouble you?" Daella asked, squinting at the girl. "You are one of those who came with Elia from King's Landing, aren't you?"

"Dragonstone," Coral murmured, suddenly desperate for this lady, so regal in her dotage, to like her. Daella looked every inch a queen, her presence much more impressive than Princess Elia's or Lyanna Stark's.

Elia looked at her, suddenly embarrassed. "I haven't really thought how it would affect those of you who were born in the North, haven't I?"

The name made Coral smile. She remembered that at Dragonstone, it had taken her some time to realize that when the Princess' Dornish ladies talked about the North, they didn't mean the vast expanse where winter reigned. Except that sometimes, they did. Especially when they whispered about this Lyanna Stark whom they all hated heartily.

She realized that the other women were waiting for her answer. Her flush deepened. "I… I don't think you should have been expected to, Your Grace," she said and then cursed her slip of tongue.

The Princess let this lapse pass without comment. "Still, I am sorry. It must be hard for you."

"It is," Coral admitted reluctantly.

Silence ruled anew.

"Well," Rhae said finally, forcefully. "I don't expect that you'd want to make people unhappy, Elia?"

"I really don't want it, Aunt," Elia replied and sighed regretfully. "I really ought to have been more considerate. Coral, if you or any of the others is willing to go back home, tell me within three days, and I'll have the arrangements made. Afterwards, it'll be impossible. Whoever wants to stay is staying forever. There's no going back."

In her womb, a soft flutter came anew, almost imperceptible. Her determinedness grew.

Coral went white. "Are you sending us away, Princess?" she asked in a small voice, the memory of the day she had been packed off to be the new Crown Princess' most beloved attendant or emptying her chamberpot, per Elia's wishes that had not been yet knows, leaping in her mind. Sent away again… Her family could not support her. The new Queen would not forget that she had chosen Princess Elia first…

The women looked shocked. "No!" Ashara exclaimed. "No, she's giving you a choice."

That did little to soothe the other girl. Few things scared Coral Hightide more than having to make a choice other than trying a new seam in her embroideries. She swallowed and nodded that she understood.

Elia's heart grew heavy. The significance of their actions hit her once again, through this girl who did not know what to do in this new world that changed ever so fast.

"Come on," she said, turning to her grandmother and the rest of them. "Let's break our fast if you haven't already."

She was suddenly eager to start her day, start acting, instead of thinking of all the complications. Because if she thought about them too long, she might lose heart.

She threw a light robe on and went to her son's room first. Aegon, thrilled with his newfound ability to move around, had brought his attendants to despair and aching backs. He threw himself at her and wailed angrily when Elia didn't reach to pick him up. She expected that eventually, he's get used to the fact that his mother would no longer carry him. _About the time the new babe arrives, perhaps_ , she thought and made a face that made him laugh, his anger forgotten. Coral picked him up and brought him close to his mother. But today, he really didn't have much time for Elia – he wanted to move. Run. So she was soon ignored and left to go to Rhaenys who was exploring the quite meager garden.

Finally, she made her way to the small dining room, the rest of them on her heels, although Ashara was the only one who hadn't eaten yet.

At this time of day, it was no surprise that there was almost no one in the room – everyone entered when they had the time, ate quickly and left just as quickly. Elia had the nagging feeling that even after getting the formalities done, things wouldn't be this peaceful for a while longer.

Arthur was there, though. Fallen asleep in front of his untouched meal and surrounded by papers, much like Elia had found herself going to sleep last night. As she deliberated if she should wake him up or not, Rhae made the choice for her: she headed for him and said loudly, "You'll get the whole table black."

He woke up immediately with a jump, reaching for a sword that was not there to fight an enemy who turned out to be his dear old grandmother. Elia looked away to suppress her laughter. Ashara didn't even bother with this.

"Ah yes, sorry about this," Arthur muttered and took the soaking pen away from the papers before hugging both his sister and Rhae.

"I guess you won't have the time to sit with us for a while?" Daella asked when her turn came.

Arthur shrugged helplessly. "Don't remind me," he said. "I can't believe I just went to sleep as I waited for the food to arrive. Now, I'll just eat and…"

The last words came out quite unintelligibly because he was already eating with one hand and making notes with the other.

"Quite an able one, aren't you?" Ashara said, laughing. "You'll be full and done with your notes in no time at all."

He grinned insolently. "It's all in the training, and I've been taught by the most exacting warlord of all under most grueling conditions _before_ I went to squire for Elia's uncle."

Coral's eyes went wide when Elia laughed. "It isn't nice of you to speak about your lady grandmother like this."

The girl gasped, shocked, and Rhae preened, giving Arthur a doting look. "I appreciate your description," she said proudly.

Elia took a seat next to Arthur and unthinkingly reached for his plate. Coral gasped again as she went to stand close by, in case Elia needed something.

Arthur laughed and looked at the Princess. "Feeding this babe, aren't we?" he asked. "Finally! No!" he warned, barring her hand's way to something that, to Coral's disgust, looked like a seashell filled with sea foam. "It's mine."

Elia looked around his plate for another seashell, found none, reached again and he covered the seashell with his palm protectively.

She looked around, grabbed the pen and scribbled a rude word over his skin.

"What!" Daella exclaimed, looking truly shocked now. "I thought we had raised a decent young woman. You ought not to _know_ this word."

"Elia knows everything," Arthur said with deep admiration and she gave him a look of mock fainting at his feet, yet not quite mocking.

"It must have been so hard for them," Coral murmured, awed. "He was Prince Rhaegar's friend and she was his princess. It must have been terrible on both of their hearts."

Unfortunately, at this moment Arthur and Elia had stopped their jests, with Elia coming out victorious with the disgusting seashell on the way to her mouth.

The seashell fell back into the plate and broke, the foam splashing all over. Elia's olive face turned white while Arthur's became bright red.

Ashara gave them a speculative look.

Elia was the first one to come to her senses somewhat. "Coral," she said as calmly as she could, "I'll be grateful if you do not spread such dangerous nonsense. Ser Arthur and I share blood and we grew up together. We're friends and cousins and we feel comfortable around each other. I know it must look strange for someone from the North, especially given how we were at Dragonstone and King's Landing. But we showed respect to the customs of the land we had gone to. We're at Dorne now and we truly had been next to each other for most of our lives. Please do not make everything harder than it is."

Coral murmured something, mortified. How could she have made such a mistake! Worse, how could she have said it? Elia turned to Arthur. "I thought you were on your way?" she said and he jumped readily, making himself scarce with remarkable speed.

"So, it's dangerous?" Coral heard Rhae murmur. "How is it dangerous _now_?"

By the look the sisters shared, Coral was left with the distinct impression that there was something that Princess Elia still hadn't been told.

* * *

Oberyn arrived late this night, finding Elia surrounded by papers and drawings. Looking at him, she smiled and waved him in. He stepped into the bedchamber, careful not to tread on the papers on the Myrish carpet – he had no desire to irritate her before they even spoke.

She met him in the centre of the chamber, throwing herself in his arms without hesitation.

For a long moment of silence she stayed clinging to him. Tears fell from her eyes – tears of joy, of renewed bitterness and yes, of relief. Before she saw him, she hadn't realized just how much she had feared that he might not return at all.

Finally, he placed her at an arm's length and smiled at her. "I am so happy to see you here safely," he said. "All of you."

His eyes were on her still flat belly and Elia knew that he had been told. "You've been to Doran?" she asked, not quite surprised. For all the closeness they shared, going to Doran first after a long absence was something that they never questioned and always did. Not that he had told them to. They just did it.

He nodded. "Rhaegar is a fool," he said. "I hope I have the chance to draw my spear through him in the hostilities that will inevitably follow."

He said it without inflection but Elia shuddered all the same. No matter Rhaegar's failings, she didn't want her brother putting the spear through her children's father's heart… much.

"I hope I have the chance myself," she said fiercely. "I wish Mother and Father had thought of training me the way I hear you're training your girls."

Oberyn laughed and looked at her approvingly. "I am pleased to see your spirit restored," he said. "I was afraid that it was another thing lost to us."

For a moment, his face became bleak and unhappy and Elia could hear him counting the losses in his head: two uncles, two cousins, Elvar's ability to lead a normal life, let alone Elvar's face. By now, Elia knew everything about Alynna's heartache and the troubles between her uncle Mikkel and his wife which were a direct result of losing two of their sons. And that was without even mentioning Ashara's mishap.

And her throne and Aegon's crown, of course…

"Come here," she said vehemently. "I want to show you what I have planned for the celebrations after Doran makes the announcement."

She wanted everything to be perfect. She was not going down and allowing herself to be forgotten. She'd rise in a crown of blazes. The sun always did.

* * *

The next day, everyone gathered at dinner to celebrate Oberyn's news. All candelabra were lit and the light accentuated both the happiness and that sadness that seemed to never leave them now.

"So, that was the reason you were so slow to return," Vorian said, giving Oberyn a disapproving look. "Was it so hard to write and tell us that you were still with us? I was already starting to think that the family had changed their mind, decided to avenge the girl's honour, and think of other arrangements for the child later."

"You would," Oberyn said. In his day, Vorian had fought his fair share of duels over women, although not in a single one that had been instigated by him. Since the last Blackfyre attempt to gain control over Westeros had started on Dorne's shores, leading to the abduction of his bride in the very day of the wedding, he had been a stern believer that there was no woman worth risking your life for, except family. "Yes, I decided that since Elia was on her way here and I was not needed," Here, he glanced at Doran, "Lady Nym and I could pay a visit to Lanore and make sure that she was fine. Of course, we stayed until she gave birth safely. I got to see him, he's _huge_!"

"And Lanore is truly fine?" Isanne Gargalen asked again, concernedly. "She isn't this young."

"Neither was I when I was having most of my children," Daella reminded her. "For that matter, neither were you. Let's now drink to your grandson!"

They all drank to the newborn's health. Secretly, Elia was toasting her cousin's triumph against those who had nicknamed her Lanore the Barren, too. Only a year into her new marriage to the new Sealord, she had proved them wrong. And so will I, soon. Elia shifted uncomfortably. From her symptoms, it looked like the babe was lodging itself inside, instead of outside, and while it was a great relief to know that there was probably nothing wrong with the new life, her organs protested most vocally. That had been the reason for her having been constantly uncomfortable for months – they were just being pushed out of the way.

"Oberyn," Mikkel Gargalen asked, "why do you constantly refer to the child as _Lady_ Nym?"

"Because she is," Oberyn said and Elia nodded. "Never mind, you have to see her to understand."

"I find it offensive," Isanne said sharply. "And cruel to the child. Calling her something that she isn't. Bastards cannot be ladies and when they try, it usually ends badly."

The look she gave Loreza Sand, her former gooddaughter, spoke volumes of her feelings on the matter of bastards. Loreza glared back and reached for her wine again.

"Keep your opinions for yourself," Mikkel told his wife coldly. "Can you not do it for once?"

She met his eye ice for ice. The two of them had not traveled to Sunspear together from Salt Shore. They had not wanted to travel together. Heartsick, Elia watched as a marriage she had always thought as stable as a rock despite the couple's differences fall apart. She had always known they had enjoyed each other's company; now, they looked as they couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.

Tomorrow… Tomorrow Isanne Gargalen would leave for the Vale where she had been born. Tomorrow, the world would know that Rhaegar had thrown the mother of his _three_ children away. Tomorrow, Dorne would leave the Seven Kingdoms and become the proud independent land it had always been. Tomorrow, they would cut the frail bond still tying them to the dragons. Elia had to believe in the day to come.

Still, she already knew that she wouldn't sleep tonight.

 


	6. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! I had to get A Snake in the Mist out of my system first but now I'm back to my other stories. Thanks for all your comments!

"What by the Seven is _this_?"

Doran sounded so disgusted that Elia instinctively glanced at the looking-glass. Perhaps her eyes were deceiving her? Perhaps the silk gown in orange and deep red did not suit her at all? But no, she still liked her reflection, and Loreza was so indignant that she forgot she was actively ignoring Doran and glared. "I think Elia looks very nice," she said bellicosely.

"She looks very beautiful, Father," Arianne piped in. She had been the one to seal the choice of attire with the stamp of final approval and she wasn't quite certain why Doran didn't like it.

"I agree."

The chamber full of women went silent, wondering what the problem was. Coral Hightide even studied the rich gown for any small defects that six women might have missed but the man had noticed immediately.

"You need to change," Doran said. "You look too _good_ for the part I have for you. I cannot have you show up looking so lovely and recovered when I make the announcement that Rhaegar has mistreated you and been cruel to you. You must look the suffering wife, remember?"

Elia looked down, furious with him. So, it was not enough that she was going through the seven hells? She now had to _look_ it? Prove it to the court of public opinion? Women realized that grief and worry left their mark on their looks, so they did their best to conceal it. Elia was no different.

Unfortunately, now that her brother had said it, she realized that he was right…

"Can I borrow something of yours?" she turned to Loreza. Unlike most sisters, they had always been reluctant to trade attires because the things that suited the dark-haired Elia would look terribly on the pale-skinned Loreza and vice versa.

"The ivory one," Loreza said immediately and Elia almost groaned.

"And wash your face as well," Doran ordered and Loreza glared again.

"We _got it_ , my lord Prince, there's no need to repeat yourself."

Satisfied that he had been understood, Doran took his leave as Elia started washing away the makeup that she had put on so carefully in order to look her best. Judging by Arianne's look, she was doing a great job in turning back into what she was – a careworn woman, burdened by the traps of her own body and the shame of public rejection.

* * *

Elia was waiting for noon like prisoners waited for the hour of execution. Like Brandon Stark had waited for the hour of his death, perhaps. That would truly be the end. The end of an era. The end of her life as she had known it ever since her betrothal to Rhaegar had been announced. It was stupid of her. She was aware that the end had come much, much earlier, at King's Landing, brought over by Rhaegar's own hand at the supposed failure of her womb. She _knew_ that, had accepted the truth of it and all the dishonour it had heaped upon her. Why, then, did she feel this way? Because it would mean exposing her failure for all the world to see? Because she, by her own hand, would deprive her son of any slim chance he had to fight for his inheritance? What if Doran's plans went awry?

Loreza's ivory silk didn't suit her at all. It only gave her skin a sickly yellow tinge and the cut revealed the gauntness of her neck and collarbone. The sleeves were no better. Without the kohl lining her eyes, the sleepless nights showed. Her cheekbones were so sharply incised that if she didn't know it was from her inability to keep down the little food she could force herself to eat, she'd think she had lost a tooth or two on both sides. At least now she probably looked pitiable enough for Doran's taste! She was careful not to even glance in the direction of the looking-glass.

Around her, the women whispered to each other. Ashara stood a little apart, white and silent, drowning in her own memories and pain. She cut a fine silhouette, with a poised stance and a slim frame. If Elia made an effort, she could almost forget that there had been a babe at all.

The sunlight deepened into the room ruthlessly and there was a knock at the door. Coral hurried to open.

A tall young man, dark of hair and violet of eye, entered and stopped at the threshold. "Princess," he said formally. "Prince Doran has sent me to collect you."

"I am coming, my lord," Elia replied and quite surprised, noticed that Coral was staring at him enraptured without even trying to hide it. The timing of this girl!

She took the arm he offered her and left the solar. Behind her, Ashara bent down to take Rhaenys' hand, although the little girl tried to wiggle out of it. Aegon's nursemaid would carry him.

As soon as Elia stepped into the corridor, her breath turned to searing smoke in her chest. Her cousin Alynna, Alynna Dayne now, was waiting for her – and she looked as terrible a sight as Elia despite the fact that she had tried to conceal it. They could be the twin images of hopeless despair. But there was no time for Elia to talk to her, ask how she was. Alynna just joined her ladies and Coral chose her, of all people, to ask, "Who is he?"

"Lord Dayne," Alynna replied.

"Ser Arthur's brother?" There was a silence and then Coral whispered, "Is it true that he's killed his wife?"

That was news for Elia herself. She had had no idea that there were such rumours. By the way Arel tensed next to her, she knew that he had heard… and so had some of the people crowding the halls and corridors they were going through.

"No," Alynna snapped without adding a scathing reply.

"Many things have changed since you were last here, Elia," Arel said.

"So I see," she agreed and wondered why there couldn't be one thing that had changed for the better. Just one.

Finally, they arrived at the Tower of the Sun and Elia blinked to keep away tears when on the dais, in the two seats she had always seen her mother and father, she now spotted Doran and Mellario. Arel's grip on her tightened, although no one could say that by looking at them.

"Come on," he murmured. "You know you can do it."

The Tower of the Sun was just as crowded with people as the halls. Elia saw familiar faces, coats of arms that she knew. All of Doran's bannermen were here. Even Yronwood had come. She looked for the cockatrice and her uncle's presence gave her some courage. She needed it… especially when she realized that her father had not come.

Concern pierced her like a spear, pushing all thoughts of her own state away. Was Alric in such a bad shape that he couldn't even summon the will to pass the three leagues from the Water Gardens to witness the event that would change Westeros? _It's better this way,_ she told herself. For the honour of their House, for the stability of Dorne it was best that no one saw Alric's downfall. Certainly not all their bannnermen at the same time. And she felt foul for even entertaining such considerations.

When Arel led her to the dais, she glanced through the window and almost stumbled, taken aback. All of Sunspear had flooded the yards and squares as far as she could see. The people knew, they had learned somehow. "To the spears!" The cry rose again and again and them others hushed it, waiting to see what would happen now, waiting for Doran to make the announcement. Boys fought for room; men had taken small children on their shoulders to give them better view, taking away from the view of others who protested loudly. Men at-arms kept peace all around.

"Just for today, Elia," Mellario promised when Elia took her place in the chair that had been brought over for her and Elia felt relieved that someone understood. For all his intelligence, Doran was a man. He would never understand that a woman's looks was her armour and not just a weapon she could use in any way she wished.

From the crowd, Oberyn shook his head in disgust and said something to Arel as he passed by him. With immense relief, Elia noticed that the greeting Lady Delonne Alyrion, Arel's former goodmother, gave him was a very cordial one. _But why am I relieved_ , she suddenly startled. _I never believed that he truly killed her. Have I?_ Revulsion rose to her throat and she clenched it, clenched her lips to contain it inside.

More and more eyes fell on her and the children, Rhaenys with her dark Martell looks and Aegon who was the very embodiment of what a Targaryen should look like. Muttering rose and for a short while, Doran simply let everyone trade opinions of the insult they could now see with their own eyes. When he finally raised a hand, everyone fell silent.

"It's time," he said, his voice barely raised but everyone strained to hear him, "to reconsider our current standing with the dragon king, Rhaegar Targaryen. Because, out of all the nations that bent the knee to the dragons' might, we were the only ones who proved them wrong. " _The dragon takes what he wants,"_ they say but Dorne was never taken, it was given. And I think it's time for us to take it back. What is there for us in the Seven Kingdoms? What has the King ever done for us? He insulted us by hiding the woman he replaced your princess with here, in our very land. He let his father use his own wife and children as hostages to take our spears – for all I know, the idea was Rhaegar's own, for we know what care he showed them later."

The words fell Elia like a blow. In her heart of hearts, she had always wondered if Rhaegar had truly tried to get them out of King's Landing. He swore that he had but she was far from convinced that she could trust him. The thought that her children's father could have turned them into an arrow to release against Dorne was a bitterness that had not gone sweeter with time. She had never dared ask her brothers if they had the same suspicions.

Doran paused and the room immediately rang with shouts of resentment and indignation. His face revealed nothing but Mellario was smiling. _For someone who professes to lack charm, he really knows how to hold a room in his thrall,_ Elia thought. A young page at the door repeated Doran's words for those who were too far to hear and she could feel that the pandemonium outside would soon reach the level of the one inside.

Again, Doran raised his hand and again, silence ensued immediately. "He used or let his father use my sister and her children against me. He took the spears wielded by Dorne's most able men. He bought his crown with your blood and the lifeblood of your fathers, your sons, your brothers. And then he repaid us by taking a stand against the very laws the Seven have given us. He set aside his wedded wife, something that he had no right to do, and took from his children their inheritance, their titles, their very name. He now says that he wants to make amends – but how is he going to do this? Can you trust a single word coming from his mouth of a liar? I know that I cannot."

He paused again and the hall and the crowd outside roared their agreement.

"He might give us privileges – and then take them back, breaking his word as he broke his word to my sister. If he was so quick to replace Elia, his princess, with Lyanna, his whore, and elevate the child of their unholy union built upon the blood of her own father and brother over the trueborn son his wife gave him, he will be just as quick to replace his favours in any aspect. He'll demand that men of Dorne die for him again – and he'll offer us an equally offending payment. What is to stop him from retracting the concessions Daeron the Good made us a hundred years ago? What is to stop him from enforcing the laws the rest of Westeros follows over our own ones, including the ones of succession? I say we've taken enough. We have our relations with the Free Cities. We don't need the Seven Kingdoms and we certainly don't need the whims of a man who would send his devoted wife, the mother of his two children who were already born and the third one in her womb, thus insulting all of Dorne after using us. I say we take the fate of Dorne back in our own hands!"

There was a roar of approval from the entire hall. Everyone was on their feet. Elia closed her eyes. "He's done it," she murmured. Suddenly, she felt so weak that she was grateful she was seated. The babe started kicking wildly and Rhaenys clung to her hand, scared by the commotion. Aegon, on the contrary, was watching with interest. "He's separated us from them."

When Doran signed the announcement with his own hand, when a huge banner with the three-headed dragon was taken out in the courtyard, thrown on the paving stones, trodden upon and burned ritually, Elia felt like it was the end of all her efforts, the admittance of her failure, the closure of a whole chapter of her life. But I'll write a new one, she vowed and looked at the left edge of the crowd, as if an unseen force had drawn her eyes there. Here, amidst the dark-haired salty Dornishmen stood Arthur. Unlike most of the others, he was staring straight at her.

 


	7. Caves and Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspiration says thanks to everyone who commented, you're all gold.

"What are you doing here?

The words sounded less than welcoming and Arthur regretted saying them the moment he did. Somehow, he knew that Arel would not raise an eyebrow, a gesture copied by Lord Alric, and say that he felt flattered by Arthur's enthusiasm.

"The same as you," Arel said. "Looking for a chamber. With all those people, I'll be happy if I even find a cot that I'll need to share with only two people."

He wasn't jesting but something did not sound right. Arthur looked at him. "I thought Alynna had her own chambers here."

"She does," Arel agreed. "Or she did. With Errol."

His voice was even and Arthur narrowed his eyes, trying to glimpse what the situation was. The answer didn't appeal to him. Arel's eyes were hiding nothing. There was nothing to hide. He and his new wife were not with each other, had never been, although Alynna had surely recovered from the birth of her last babe, Errol Gargalen's posthumus son.

"When asked, she agreed readily to give them up to whoever needed to be quartered there. She'll sleep with Elia's ladies."

Arthur stared at him. "Don't you care what people are going to think?"

Arel laughed now, harsh and bitter, and angry. "You seem unaware of what people are already thinking. Word has it that I killed Shanai so that I can wed a woman who can give me an heir."

Arthur's jaw dropped. "What? Who says this nonsense?"

"Everyone who likes a juicy gossip," Arel replied. "Like that girl, one of Elia's northern companions. I guess now bets will go just how long I am going to wait before I force myself onto Alynna demanding my conjugal rights. To procure the heir I killed Shanai for."

There was no accusation in his voice and still Arthur felt as foul as he had faced Elia this first time since leaving Dragonstone with Rhaegar a lifetime ago. He had been so close as his brother had lived through this nightmare but instead of being there for him, he had played a nursemaid to a wild woman-child.

"Stop repeating this nonsense," Vorian's voice said behind them, startling them both. They hadn't heard him opening the door, entering the small chamber that was still two times the size of Arthur's cell in the White Sword Tower. "Just because some fools have nothing better to do with their time, it doesn't mean you should sink to their level… I told Doran both of you were staying with me," he went on, having clearly decided that he had given the rumours enough attention. "In Alric's rooms. I suggest we go there now, so people who need this room can use it. Do you need help to collect your belongings, Arthur?"

"No," Arthur said. "Arel will do."

It felt weird to think how little belongings he had after all his years at King's Landing. Very soon afterwards, he entered the rooms that Doran's father now lived in when he was at Sunspear. And he froze.

His brother and uncle noticed his reaction and Vorian nodded. "He chose it this way in person," he said, as if Arthur had said something. "It isn't that Doran threw him in this dungeon. In fact, both he and Mellario were pretty appalled when Alric had this refurnished."

Darkness. All in this solar was stark, severe, serviceable. There were no books on the shelves, no items of art spread around. None of the things that had given the late Princess' husband joy. Nothing of beauty. Not one of the faces of his family that, in the rooms he had shared with Arianne, had stared at the newcomers from all around the rooms from statuettes, tapestries, and even wood. The solar was as devoid of life as Alric had been in the few days Arthur had seen him here after their arrival.

"You and Arel can take the couches," Vorian said. "I'll sleep in his bedchamber."

Arthur wasn't surprised but quite worried to see that the bed in the sleeping chamber was a narrow one. _Hasn't Lord Alric taken a woman here? Not once since his lady wife's death?_ Even before, more likely. Arthur had heard about the Princess' long illness. It sounded quite unlikely that she would have been able to accept Alric in her bed. And for all his notoriety, he wasn't the man who would go to another woman as she lay dying.

"Is he going to come back?" Arthur asked, his voice soft, as if Alric, the way he had been once, could hear them from somewhere and bark a scathing reply. "To himself? Ever? You've known him since childhood. Is he going to overcome it?"

Vorian didn't hesitate – clearly, he had thought about it. "Perhaps," he said. "I think he can do it. Now, if he _will_ – this, I cannot say. But I think that Elia might help – if she can get over her own misfortune. The Seven above see that Loreza isn't doing much for his spirits. Elvar's state isn't exactly encouraging him to return to life either."

"It isn't Loreza's job to recover just to make it easier on him," Arel said sharply. "And it isn't Elia's either! Or Elvar's!"

"I am not saying that it is," his uncle said calmly. "Arthur just asked about Alric." He gave Arthur a shrewd look. "Well, I suppose you can help Alric by helping Elia. Not that it's your job, as your brother is going to say. But you stand a good chance if what I've seen this far can serve as a reference point."

Arthur felt how his cheek became warm and he cursed his fair skin. Now, his brother had come out of his brooding and looking at him curiously. "Is it true? You and Elia? Who knew! What's been going on as I was away?"

"You'll be the first one to know when I get there myself," Arthur promised most sincerely. Had he ever thought that the six other Kingsguard could truly be his brothers? At this moment, it looked impossible to him to have ever believed so and yet he had. "What?"

"It's good to have you back," Arel said and then, without thinking, Arthur reached out. He wasn't pushed away, as he feared that he would be, for a moment. Instead, Arel returned his embrace with equal strength.

"It's good to be back."

* * *

Elia woke up to the sound of weeping – deep, heart-wrenching sobs that set her to alarm immediately. What had happened? She scrambled for the candle at her bedside and lit it just when, on the couch, Loreza stirred and looked at Alynna with bleary eyes. "You still weep at night," she murmured, her voice heavy with slumber.

Alynna sniffed. "You still drink all day and night long," she replied.

Loreza agreed readily. "You want some?" she offered generously and produced a bottle. When she filled a goblet, the wine sparkled dark as death. Elia looked away.

Alynna gave the bottle a speculative look.

"No one is going to drink tonight," Elia said firmly, kicked her covers away and loomed over her sister, holding her hand out. Loreza hid the bottle behind her back but that just gave Alynna a chance to take it easily and hand it to Elia.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her eyes cast down. "I didn't want to wake up either of you."

Impulsively, Elia sat on the couch and hugged both her and Loreza. "By the Seven, Alynna! I should be the one sorry! If it wasn't for me…"

"If it wasn't for him," Alynna said determinedly and sniffed again. "You did nothing wrong."

_Neither did you,_ Elia thought, _and yet you lost far more than I did._ It was strange, how guilty she felt right now. She felt guilty even for feeling sorry for herself. She had lost her honour, her children's legacy, her crown, her pride – but her sister and cousin had lost loves. Alynna had lost the man she had turned a crown down for. What were Elia's woes compared to theirs!

"We'll get through this," she said determinedly while the three of them still held each other. Suddenly, she felt that she understood Doran's determination to keep her on the surface by the hair if need must far better. "I'll get you through this. You'll see. I'll take care of everything – starting with you."

She rose and took the bottle and goblet in the antechamber. Loreza whined indignantly.

"You can as well get used to it," Elia said sternly. "That was your last drop of wine for quite a while."

Loreza snorted. "Don't be ridiculous! You can't make me…"

"Try me," Elia said. "Doran gave me unlimited powers within this household. And my first order tomorrow morning would be that you not be served any wine. Any booze, in fact."

Growing up in the Water Gardens had showed her just how many cheap substitutes good wine had.

The other women were so stunned that Alynna stopped sniffing and Loreza actually gaped at Elia. _I must look quite changed,_ Elia thought. "Go to sleep, my dears," she said. "Tomorrow, we rise at dawn to go to the market."

The last thing she saw before she blew the candle off was the sight of their stunned faces. She smiled and snuggled comfortably. For first time in more than a year, she was eager for the next day to come.

* * *

That night, Elia woke up a few more times, her dream troubled by the fear that she might oversleep. Almost every time, she heard Alynna's sobs but she could do little to help her. She couldn't give Errol back to her. Her father. Her brother. She could only offer comfort that was no good because at the end, they weren't there and when when Elia startled awake next time, Alynna was crying again. At least Loreza was in the merciful oblivion of drunken stupor. _At least I have a father, no matter how low in spirits he is._

Finally, Elia rose a little before dawn and without hesitation nudged the other two awake.

"What?" Alynna groaned. "You were serious?"

"It's too early!" Loreza whined but Elia unceremoniously pulled their covers away.

"Get ready!" she ordered. "We're going to the market."

The furnaces had yet to stark cook the morning meals when their group of five women and three guards left the Old Palace. Coral Hightide was looking wide-eyed as the veils of morning mists retreated, turning the waking market into a magical place of abundance and colours. Even the Myrish merchants were at the ready, waiting for victims… err, clients. The girl watched, wide-eyed, as the ever so regal Princess started looking at roll after roll of silks and laces. Slowly, her sister and cousin's interest awoke, too, and Coral had to admit that there was certain charm in the chance to walk around a shop and examine whatever you want instead of being limited to what the merchant had deemed wise to bring to the castle. In no time at all, Elia had chosen two fabrics and insisted that Coral and Ashara choose something as well. The girl soon overcame her initial reluctance. She wasn't _making_ the Princess give her gifts, right?

"And now, let's go to the fresh produce," Elia finally said. "With so many visitors, we should make sure that the kitchens are well-supplied, and only with truly fresh vegetables. The Mother knows how easy it is to get people sick because with such quantity of items, a rotten one is more likely to find its way through."

Coral's amazement reached a new high when, in the rising light, she saw how people reacted to Elia. They knew her; they must have seen here, in the markets, hundreds of times since she had been a child… "We're happy to have you back, Princess," an old man said quite incoherently through his fallen teeth. "The Seven will punish the King for what he did."

"Men can never be relied upon," a portly fisherwoman proclaimed as Elia examined her goods. "What a man would leave such a lovely woman!"

"The North will never rest easily for what they did to you there, Princess Elia," a man vowed. "We need no throne, iron or not!"

Coral could see how moved the Princess was – and how happy. Colour came to her cheeks, her eyes started shining – unlike the other lady, her cousin who looked so uncannily like her and who could barely hold her tears when people addressed her, as well. "Lord Errol was a good man, my lady. I am so sorry for your loss."

"It was the greatest love story known to Dorne. You could have been queen and you refused, all for love!"

"Your father was the greatest head this fleet has ever had. And he was so handsome."

"They will be avenged. Dorne will not forget them."

The lady was weeping again and Coral was all curiosity about this Errol. If Alynna could reject Lord Dayne for him, then he must have been at least equal to the Warrior…

As if brought over by her thoughts, Lord Dayne arrived with sunrise, tall and handsome, the sunrays turning his black hair unexpectedly vibrant. Coral barely tore her eyes off him to the man at his left. She needed a moment to recognize Ser Arthur. It wasn't that she hadn't seen him in something other than Kingsguard white but here, he looked changed. As if he were another man.

"Why so early, ladies?" he asked with the air of long acquaintance. Coral nodded. Another man, yes. She had never heard him address the Princess of Dragonstone, the short-lived queen with such familiarity. "Something that was so important to buy that you couldn't wait?"

"We have a palace to feed, after all," Elia replied. "What about the two of you?"

He shrugged, looking sheepish. "I just wanted to… feel the city, I guess. And Arel was so good to keep me company. So, except for foods, did you buy something for yourselves?"

"Some silks," Elia said and then laughed. "I'm afraid we got carried away, so when we saw some wooden bracelets, we didn't have the money for them. Alynna is still disappointed," she added, pointing at her cousin who was standing a few steps away, still looking at the cheap but beautiful straps of coloured wooden beads.

Arel went to her. "Which one do you want?" he asked and Alynna shook her head.

Her answer was too low for them to hear but Arel's next words filled the gaps. "Alynna, it's nothing, really. Let me do this small thing for you. I am your husband."

A few moments later, the lady returned with a bright string of yellow and violet on her wrist and Coral felt a vague twinge of disappointment that was cut short by the icy look Lady Loreza gave her. She looked down and didn't say a word until they returned to the palace, even when Ser Arthur offered to buy the Princess the wooden jewels that _she_ liked and she accepted.

* * *

"I don't care what you say," Elia suddenly announced when she was done with her morning tasks. Her head was pulsing but not quite throbbing yet and she didn't have the time to lie down for a rest. She ordered a cup of tea, hoping that it would make both her head and the babe happy. _Looks like she liked it at the market_ , she thought, delighted. After a few kicks, the babe had quieted down, as if the noise and Elia walking had soothed it to sleep. The sitting position was less to its liking, it seemed, and it couldn't get comfortable. "I am going to the Water Gardens. I want to see Father."

Doran looked up from his parchment. "Very well, I'll send some letters with you."

Elia and Oberyn looked at each other, amazed. "Very well?" Oberyn repeated. "I thought you had forbidden her to go to the Water Gardens."

Doran sighed with the air of someone who had long suffered other people's jumps to conclusions. Arianne looked confused from her father to her uncle and finally Elia. "You did forbid Aunt to go there," she said, corroborating Oberyn's doubts.

Elia was relieved to hear this. At this point, a few moments later she would have started doubting if such a conversation had ever taken place.

Doran sighed again and looked at his daughter, as if he had forgotten that she was here. He might well have – when he was working, Arianne could be very quiet indeed, or he'd evict her in the most cruel way. "Do you not want to go to your mother?" he asked. "It's quite boring here."

"No," the girl stated flatly.

Doran looked at his siblings. "I forbade her to go hiding into the Water Gardens," he explained. "Feeling sorry for herself. Going to see Father is another thing. Besides," he added and smiled, "she'll barely have two or three days to spend there. We'll have a grand reception only two weeks from today. She'll have lots of work."

"Indeed," Elia murmured, stirring so the wooden beads on her ankle rattled – a sound that delighted her no less than it had Rhaenys who had insisted that she got the same bracelet. She intended to take all sorts of books and archives with her at the private residence but even so, Doran was off with no more than a day or two.

Oberyn looked disgruntled. "When I told you that I was going to see Father, you said _no_."

Doran rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to compare yourself to Elia, Brother? Elia won't try to needle him out of his grief thinking that she's _helping_. Elia won't tell him that he's wasting his life away and isn't he going to get a grip over himself already? Elia has _tact_."

Oberyn snorted, reached for the closest cup available, noticed too late that it was Elia's tea and almost snorted it through his nose.

"Tact!" he spat after he got his breathing under control. "You've been nothing but tactful this far – and see where it has brought him! You still think that your way is the better way? We're losing our father, Doran, just as surely as we lost Mother, and I can't believe that you – all of you! You! Grandmother! Uncle Mikkel! – are just sitting idle and let him sink further. And when I try to do something, you actually prevent me from doing so!"

_Indeed_ , Elia agreed inwardly.

Doran, however, looked unmoved. He only stared at Oberyn silently, not denying the accusations. No. He even smiled, weakly. "Do you remember that time nine years ago when we were in Essos? We were hunting along the Rhoyne. We saw a lion – even in Essos, it was a rare beast – and Father wounded it with his spear. We found it dead the next day in its lair. It had hidden there to fight death alone. But if it had pulled through, it would have emerged from the dark cave again in the light, strong and fierce…"

Oberyn looked down, his face stricken. Elia felt uncomfortable looking at him, so she trained her eyes on Arianne instead. Doran didn't add anything either.

"Have you seen him do it before?" Oberyn finally asked. "Pull through?"

"Yes," Doran replied. "I have."

Elia could only hope that she'd see the same thing. Because, while Doran might be right in his assessment, Oberyn was right about his as well: their father was losing all the things that made him.

* * *

"That's a lie!"

Bony fingers gripped Lyanna's hand and yanked her back to her seat. "Sit down!" the Queen Mother hissed in her ear. "Do not behave like a screeching peasant woman!"

Pycelle had paused uncomfortably, not quite sure what to do. The King, his face stony, nodded at him to go on but Lyanna spoke again, "It isn't true! Only the gods know what they're hoping to win with this lie. Elia Martell is barren and even if she isn't, the child is not Rhaegar's! It can't be!"

She looked at him to see his own rage at the accusation his embittered former wife had thrown against him. She found none.

Could it be true? No, Rhaegar had told her that he'd repudiate Elia. That he had never loved her. Why would he bed her when he had already decided to send her away? He was no Robert, unable to control his urges. He _loved_ Lyanna. It was all a plot whose purpose she could not understand.

Now, all members of the Small Council looked uncomfortable, avoiding to look at either her or Rhaegar.

"Keep reading," her husband said again icily.

The rest of the letter buzzed around Lyanna's ears, not making its way to her head. Everything was like Rhaegar had expected. Secession. End of diplomatic relationships. Some accusations of dishonourable treatment. All Lyanna could think about was the outrageous claim about the babe that was not Rhaegar's. That did not even exist, most likely.

"Well?" she asked as soon as her husband entered her solar later in the afternoon. "What are you going to do about that?"

He gave her a dark look. "As a start, I won't let you to be present at the meetings of the Small Council."

She gaped. "What?"

He waved her handmaidens away. "How can I when you show such lack of control? The Small Council deals with important business, not little girls' outbursts."

Lyanna stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. Now the focus was on her behavior? Not on the fact that he was being described as a monster who had sent his faithful wife away as she was carrying his child?

"Don't you care about the things they're saying about you!" she exclaimed. Oh, she knew about all the things people said about her but they were not to break her. But this was another thing altogether. The merest hint that Rhaegar could be unfaithful to her when their love had cost her so much was enough to bring her wolf blood onto the surface in a gush of blood – hers, and not only. "Even if there is a babe – which you told me is impossible, - only the Seven know who the father is. She must have had an old flame in Dorne if she got with child right away. They're trying to blame it on you, on top of all the other things people blame us about already."

His face went red – for the first time since she knew him. She ground her teeth, holding her ground. Something very strange was taking place here and she was determined to learn what it was.

"Listen to me," he said, very softly, each word pronounced clearly. "This isn't like the things they say about us – the untrue ones, I mean. Doran Martell wouldn't say that there is a child if there isn't. Now, all the world will be looking at them. He's too smart to take such a risk. And there is no flame of Elia's in Dorne. The child is my child. And while I didn't do any of it maliciously, the fact is that I wronged Elia and my children in a most grievous way. I now must think of how to contain the damages to the Seven Kingdoms because, really, I can think of no way to contain the damages I did to her and our babes."

"What about the damage you did to me!" Lyanna yelled. "What about my babe!"

There was only one way for him to think that the babe was his. She had lost her father, Brandon, Ned's love, and the lives of all those best men of the North because of her love for a man who cherished it no more than Robert would have.

She screamed and lunged for him with fists and teeth.

 


	8. Price of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: No Elia in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented, it truly helps the story along!

Rhaella was going three things at once: she was reading a letter, rubbing her belly to calm the babe who protested against such a peaceful occupation of hers, and watched as her new handmaiden folded attires and placed them in coffers. Oh, and she was also having her hair made. Since her return from Dragonstone, she avoided sitting in front of the looking-glass as it took place. She had been stunned and horrified to find the first traces of pure white in her silver-gold locks.

"No," she said abruptly. "Velvet should be uppersmost, else we'll never be able to iron it. And put on some more balls."

Flushing, the girl hurried to obey. Rhaella shook her head. She hadn't wanted to sound as if she was reproaching her for poor performance but Magden was new in her service and still in awe of her. Every attempt to explain that she wasn't angry would lead to the girl feeling more uncomfortable, she knew that from long experience with servants, so she only said, "And no more than five official gowns for grand occasions."

Madgen's blue eyes shot to her incomprehendingly. "Just five, Your Grace?"

"Just five," Rhaella replied firmly. She had no intention to host grand events where she was going. And right now, she was in need of everyday dresses and robes, not gowns. The babe was growing so rapidly that she'd have to have those repaired more than once, it seemed. She closed her eyes and prayed with all the despair of her soul of a living child, living and healthy…

"The King…"

The word cut through her intense prayer and Rhaella opened her eyes. Her chambermaid and the young handmaiden were staring at her, clearly afraid. At the door, Rhaegar stood frozen, searching her face for a sign that she was still… _there_.

"I see," Rhaella said and all three of them relaxed. Rhaegar entered fully and gave her a questioning look, indicating the coffers and the fabrics covering all free surfaces, from the couch to the side tables.

Rhaella looked back at him blanky, glad that the moment had come. "Thank you," she told the women. "You may go."

"What are you doing?" Rhaegar asked. "Do you not like your chambers? As far as I remember, Grandmother was always pleased with them."

"They're lovely," Rhaella assured him. "I am not moving to some other rooms. I am simply going away from King's Landing. I'm moving to Dragonstone."

He looked as if she had slapped him. "What? But King's Landing is your home!"

"Nor anymore," Rhaella replied. "You have a new queen now. There's no room for two."

"Especially if one of them is Lyanna?" he asked bluntly.

Oh, how brave he was, this son of hers, all of a sudden! His new wife's influence? Attack before the opponent has had the time to prepare?

"Especially then!" she confirmed.

He looked around at her clothes, her favourite jewels, the books she had preferred since her early youth. Everything was in different stage of being prepared for leaving.

"You cannot go," he finally said. "We have an onset of lords pouring here incessantly, especially after Prince Doran's announcement. The septons whisper that I've drawn the anger of gods over the realm by repudiating my legal wife while she was so blessed. The Iron Bank has sent envoys… The Sealord of Braavos is due to arrive for a visit in just a few months…"

The litany of obligations did not impress Rhaella at all. She was so relieved that it wasn't her duty to tend to all those people and soothe all those tensions, not anymore. She was surprised by her own lack of remorse.

"That's the Queen's duty," she said easily. "Fortunately, I am no longer that. Let me take care of my health…" She looked at her belly meaningfully. "… And Lyanna can deal with those tasks."

He glared at her. "You know that she can't… yet."

"Is that so?" Rhaella wondered, her anger flaring. How _dared_ he demand more of her? Hadn't all those years she had worked for his father's throne, for _his_ legacy, been enough? She now had to work instead of the queen he had chosen, undermining this very throne? How dared he blame her for being unwilling? "Well, that's very sad but it isn't my problem, my son. That's your problem alone."

To her surprise, his anger fizzled out, his dragon going to sleep just as hers roared to fierce life. "You're doing this because of Elia, aren't you?" he asked. "You're punishing me for what I did to her and the children."

"You didn't even let me say goodbye!"

"I know." Suddenly, he looked older, more tormented. His life of late had not been a good one, not only in his royal duties but his chambers at night. Lyanna could not forgive that she had been betrayed. "I thought it was for the best, truly. From the very beginning. If I had only known…"

She dismissed his regrets with a wave of white hand. "If you wanted to know, you should have come and asked me," she said. "Asked me what I knew about the women in her family. Asked me if the maesters ever told me that I'd never deliver a living child before Viserys. You just wanted your wolf girl more than you wanted my esteem. More than you wanted your children. Don't tell me that you didn't know. There was no way for the maesters to be sure so soon after the birth. This, you did know. Everyone does."

He didn't deny right away. Instead, he seemed to pore over it, pacing around the room. When he was in front of her, Rhaella watched him; when he disappeared briefly, she didn't turn after him. Stirring was an effort now and the babe had just settled, her anger probably proving of entertaining enough value.

"Perhaps I was," her son finally admitted. "Perhaps I saw what I wanted to see. I was _in love_ , Mother. Is this such a horrible thing?"

She laughed – she couldn't do anything else. It was an ugly sound coated in disbelief and disappointment. "You can still ask? After all that took place?" She paused and tried to soothe the dragon spitting fire in her breast to some semblance of calm. "Look, let's be clear. You got what you wanted…"

"This isn't what I wanted!" he shouted. "This isn't what I wanted at all!"

To her surprise, Rhaella believed him. Oh, she didn't know what it was that he hadn't wanted – Dorne leaving the King's peace, Doran refusing him even the smallest soothing of his remorse by depriving him of the chance to be generous to his newly-bastardized children – she had almost chewed off flesh from the first fool who had spoken of _Lord Aegon_ in her presence – losing the companionship Elia had given him, Lyanna having no interest in the boring aspects of queenship, Elia having the third child she shouldn't be able to have… but she knew that he hadn't wanted it. Not that it changed her opinion or her anger.

"Well," she said, "that's what you got. Do your best to handle the matters, leave me alone to have some rest for the first time in twenty-five years and put your Joanna to her duties…"

"Lyanna."

She snorted. "Doesn't matter. The only difference between the two is that _I_ had a king for a father, so I stayed queen and you the heir." Noticing the stunned expression on his face, she snickered unpleasantly. "What do you think, why were Joanna and Tywin betrothed at the end of my father's rule? Aerys wanted to send me away. He truly thought that we could disentangle from each other, each chasing after our own happiness. He assured me that you'd keep your place in the succession." She huffed. "As if! It would have been a matter of time before you would have been disinherited, much like you did with Aegon. Aerys was like you, just like you: he started things with the best of intentions and the result was… this!" She gestured widely, indicating the Red Keep, the city, the whole realm that had yet to recover from the devastating war. "He was going to repudiate me as soon as Father took his last breath. But unfortunately for him and the lovely Joanna, Jaehaerys Targaryen was too smart for them. When he got tired of trying to put some sense into Aerys, he arranged for Joanna's betrothal to take place immediately. Even Aerys had enough sense not to reach for another man's betrothed." Rhaella paused, as if surprised by her own words. "Even Aerys," she said, looking at Rhaegar with sad surprise. The dragon was suddenly lulled to sleep, the babe stirred, and the new King could think of nothing to say.

* * *

Perhaps spring would come at last – for real, this time. For first time in many years the softer breeze, the budding snowdrops, the renewed liveliness of the animals that could smell such changes before the maesters could even confirm them did not stir a note of delight in Daenaera Mallister's heart. She stared at the early signs of renewal with indifferent eye, feeling as worn-out as she had during those long early springs that she could never forget, the three springs of her first marriage when youth and beauty had been all she had had. Even her granddaughter's laughter could not make her smile. Once again, she had taken her onetime duties as Lady of Seagard, conscientiously, efficiently and with no joy at all. Solving disputes and bringing peace in the town was just something she did because she had to. Even her attempts to cheer her daughter up were half-hearted, doomed to fail as she well knew. Only time could heal her.

"Do you want to come with me to choose the upholstery?" Daenaera asked as they were breaking their fast. Since the last turn of the moon, Amabel had become paler and more withdrawn than ever. The day that had been meant for her wedding was coming slowly, inevitably. She had given away all the things she had prepared for her dowry, so when they arranged another match for her, they would have to start from nothing. Daenaera knew that it would not be long until then and they'd better start soon but she could not force either her daughter or herself to concern with such things. Instead, she had decided to refurbish Jason's solar. He often invited friends and discussed matters of ruling there. That was one of the things Daenaera had to take care of.

"I will!" Daena volunteered. "I'll come with you, Grandmother," she went on enthusiastically. "Can I choose the tapestries?"

"A tablecloth," Daenaera allowed. The thought of a solar furnished in bright yellow and no less bright green – with fantastic and absolutely tinsel beasts – was enough to give her a headache. Better that she started teaching the child early in hopes to teach her better. It had worked with Amabel anyway.

"Have a good time," Amabel said. "You can bring me some new threads if there is something nice."

Daenaera didn't press her, although she would prefer if her daughter made an effort.

"Where's Jason?" she asked.

Amabel shrugged. "I heard he rode out with only a few men at dawn."

Just a year ago, Daenaera would have been astir before dawn as well. Not anymore. There was no true need for her to, so she had started oversleeping regularly. There were still those nights when she startled awake, expecting to see Lewyn next to her and panicked that they were too late for him to slip away unnoticed. But the bed beside her was empty. Just like her life.

Fortunately, there was Daena, to make them all at least pretend cheerfulness. Holding her by the hand, Daenaera crossed the Eagle Square, headed for the covered market and the shop of Balzar the White. People stepped away to clear the way and the two guards following them would have nothing to do, she could say already.

"It isn't pealing," Daena murmured as they went past the Booming Tower. "It never does! I want to hear it peal."

"No," Daenaera replied. "You don't want to."

She stared at the huge bronze bell and tried to imagine it tolling, tolling as the Ironborn raided the shores. It had been an all too common event three hundred years ago. She prayed that she'd never actually hear it, that Daena never would.

"Perhaps if I ask Father…"

"Daenaera Mallister!" her grandmother said sternly.

The girl knew when she was close to the limit of Daenaera's patience, so she started chattering about other things and didn't stop even as she was choosing the tablecloth. It was worse than Daenaera had expected. There were dragons _and_ gryphones, _and_ salamanders fighting for room, each of them more garish than the next. Perhaps they could shake even Jason's unruffled calm regarding his surroundings. Daenaera tried to forget about the sight as she looked into tapestries and furs, trying to find the most stable fabrics as well as the one that were most yielding to a cleaning brush.

"Perhaps this?" Clara offered. The length she was holding was a magnificent one indeed but it was black and red. Daenaera smiled and refused politely.

_I must choose something fast_ , she thought. Of course, as the lord's mother, she was being attended by the wealthy merchant's own wife and while it was not evident that Clara needed to sit down, Daenaera remembered all too well what it was like to move around weighed down by a huge belly, her calves and feet swollen under her.

"Is something bothering you?" she asked. "Is the babe restless?"

The woman tried to smile. "No, my lady. I'm just a little scared, that's all. I'm too old to give birth now."

Daenaera gave her a speculative look, trying to remember her exact age. "Clara, correct me if I'm wrong but you still haven't celebrated your fortieth nameday. I was already fifty when I had my last. There won't be any problems at all."

She chose to omit the fact that this last birth had almost killed her and Amabel both. No need to scare the poor woman further. Birthing bed was a battlefield where danger was lurking constantly, ready to snatch mother and babe and lay them at the Stranger's feet. "I'll visit you soon," she promised instead.

It was part of her duty, after all, taking care of her son's people. No matter how hard it had become all of a sudden.

On their way back, she had to think of the other things that her late births had left her with. With the last one, she had lost a tooth to rot, her breasts had sagged in a way that for a while had made her sick and while still slim, she could never get rid of that extra flesh on her belly unless she lost a horrifying amount of weight. Climbing up the many stairs of the castle had definitely become harder…

The sight of the commotion in the bailey put an abrupt end of all thoughts about her looks and how Lewyn had laughed at her dissatisfaction with herself and carried her upstairs each time they happened to be alone and she lost her wind climbing those thrice damned steps of Dragonstone.

She saw the banner before she saw the man and when she recognized it, her heart fluttered with fear, anticipation and most of it, a savage joy that only grew when she saw the new arrival.

"My lady," Jon Arryn said, bowing to her. And then, in a sudden flash of genius, "My lady."

Daena's eyes lit up and she curtsied as elegantly as Elia's ladies at Dragonstone had taught her. She adored being treated like a woman grown, although she wouldn't be one for many years yet. She was only five and while Amabel was the only one of Daenaera's children that had taken something from her, Daena was Daenaera come again while she still lived.

"I am sorry for your loss, my lord," Daenaera said when he turned back to her.

He only nodded and she felt a surge of bitter anger. He wasn't sorry at all. Lysa had been so _young_ and full of life and dreams. He was only sorry that he had lost his hope to continue the Arryn line.

That was Amabel's opinion as well and she didn't hesitate to express it as soon as Lord Arryn was shown to his chambers and she was left alone with her mother. "He doesn't even care that she's dead!" she raged and paced, paced and raged. "She deserved so, so much better than this old man. He didn't love her at all. He only cares about the babe she miscarried! I hope it was a boy," she added maliciously.

Daenaera slapped her without thinking twice. Amabel gaped and pressed a hand to her cheek. Her mother held her eye. "Listen to me," she snapped. "And hear me well! You're seventeen already and while I know Lysa was your friend and you grieve for her, that's no reason to work yourself into bold declarations and beliefs against the world and the way it goes. Especially when meting out judgments! I don't like it either – I like it even less than you do! – but that's the way it is. Of course he doesn't mourn Lysa. She was so much younger than him. She was a child that he barely knew. Their marriage disgusted me then and it still does now – but I won't let you blame a man for trying to do right by his family and name. As much as it pains me that she's dead, you can blame Hoster Tully for the lack of affection. I can get Jon Arryn – but Tully, for the life of me, I cannot! To agree and give her to such an old man… There should be limits to all, even ambitions. I thought he cared about her more than… " She paused to compose herself. "We saw firsthand what happens when girls take love and so on, elevate it above anything else and fight for it with whatever means they have, didn't we? What's next, running away with the first man you decide you love, no matter if he's wed, no matter if you're promised? Is that it? Should I call you Lyanna Stark from now on?"

Amabel's violet eyes, the only thing she had taken from her mother, went wide. "Do not compare me to her!" she yelled angrily. To her horror, her eyes welled up. "Jeffory is dead, Mother, and Elbert, and… How can you?!"

Daenaera sighed and held out a hand. "Come here," she murmured, embracing her daughter. "I am just scared about you," she murmured against Amabel's hair. "Soon, you'll have to leave us. You're so young, so passionate about the things you believe in and every injustice you perceive. I am so very afraid that you might do something that would end in tragedy."

"Like Lyanna Stark did?" Amabel demanded, tearing away from her mother. "She hasn't done too poorly with her life, hasn't she? She's the Queen now, not deigning to look down at the blood staining the foot of her throne."

They had both heard the first news of the new queen's refusal to entertain boring lady functions, sit for hours with the wives of men representing the Iron Bank, read through the petitions she was receiving.

Daenaera slowly shook her head. "I think she does," she said softly. She had seen the girl in the midst of her frenzied activities – riding, insisting that the King took time to play the harp for her every day, dancing like there was no tomorrow. "She feels the weight of her decisions, you can trust me. And she hasn't even started to pay yet," she added, her smile sudden and as cold as her daughter's voice was angry.

Amabel held her breath. "You think…?"

"But of course," Daenaera said. "To you, Elbert was your betrothed. To Jon, though, he was his hope. His future. And he loved Robert Baratheon as well. Why else would he come?"

It turned out that there had been another reason, though. Amabel went white when their visitor handed her the magnificent display of gold and diamond, and amethysts. A strip that would fit magnificently into her brown curls with a slight reddish cast. A strip that she'd never wear, now.

"He had this commissioned for you shortly before he left for Brandon Stark's wedding," Jon said. "They only finished it when he was already…" He looked away. "Anyway, I decided that you should have it."

She nodded, for she trusted herself to speak not.

Jason, recently come back after his early leaving, ground his teeth in a way that made Daenaera see ghosts: the solar at King's Landing, her ever restless royal grandfather…

"I take it that you've heard about Prince Doran's announcement and Princess Elia's state?" Jon finally asked, looking at Daenaera meaningfully. "Or perhaps you knew before anyone else?"

"We heard," Jason said guardedly.

"And you aren't surprised?"

Daenaera shrugged. "Women in our family are fertile," she said. "And her mother bore my brother many children, although only three lived."

For a moment, he looked down. Daenaera wondered if he, too, remembered the day he had asked her uncle King Aegon for her hand. Arryns had gotten a Targaryen princess before, had given a bride to a Targaryen prince. There was no reason for the heir of the Vale to be refused a Velaryon with Targaryen blood. But she had already been promised to her first husband, a marriage she had done her best to forget.

He looked uneasy, so Jason decided to help him out. "I was surprised that you didn't accept the King's proposal and become his Hand."

Jon Arryn looked like he wanted to spit right on Daenaera's fine green carpet. Then, he clearly decided that he had minced his words long enough. "I won't stand against the Iron Throne openly," he stated. "It'll only result in more losses for my people. But I won't suffer Rhaegar Targaryen and his new… wife… doing whatever they want, pretending to be this loving happy couple that only wants the best for Westeros as so many people… Elbert… Robert… as their remains scream for vengeance. I won't let the spawn of their shameless union take the throne as if it is his right, for that would be a great insult to the realm, the laws, and the Seven. I shall not suffer it. I want to assist the true heir in reclaiming his rights – but it must be in secret for now."

Daenaera barely refrained from jumping from her seat and doing a triumphant dance around her solar. Amabel followed suit, although self-control came harder for her.

"Well," Jason finally said, "I was planning to go and see Dorne anyway…"

 


	9. On the Seaside Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you keep the story alive!

The distance between Sunspear and the Water Gardens was so short that Elia didn't put much thought even into choosing her children's belongings that she'd take for the visit – she could always send someone back and receive what she wanted in a few hours at most. Her own gowns occupied her attention for even a shorter span – she only took two, just in case.

"The Water Gardens aren't the place for state receptions and grand occasions," Ashara Dayne explained to Elia's northern ladies. "They're for _living_ in."

Seeing that they didn't understand, she just shrugged. "You'll see soon enough."

"Are all of us going with the Princess?" Coral asked. "I mean… is there enough room?" she asked and blushed.

Ashara gave her a hard look. "I wouldn't dream of leaving _you_ here on your own," she replied, pleasantly enough but Elia still gave her a quick look as she packed away the anklet Arthur had given her with the utmost care. She could already say that even in the shelter of the Water Gardens, there'd be tensions but leaving Coral here without supervision would only make matters worse.

The dawn of their departure found Elia utterly exhausted. Aegon had kept her awake with the pain of cutting a tooth and the babe had decided that it was now time for practicing her dancing, so she intended to spend the time in her litter sleeping. But first, she had to break her fast – at this point, she was ready to devour the serving maids! There was no time for going back to bed.

"You couldn't sleep either?" she asked, completely unsurprised when she saw her uncle at the table with a cup of reddish tea and a scroll of parchment. All around them, the only ones who were awake were the servants and Doran, if the flurry of movements behind the curtains of his solar at the opposite side of the small courtyard could be trusted. Splashing of water against paving stones, clouds of dust erupting from rugs and tapestries being cleaned, the sounds of animals being fed – all those were signs of a household that was barely starting its everyday life. Only disturbed souls had rested uneasily through the night.

Mikkel Gargalen looked at her and smiled briefly. "There was a letter from Braavos," he said, nodding at the parchment. "Looks like my daughter has already started suffering maternal anxiety. As you know, the office of the Sealord isn't a hereditary one, so Lanore craves some additional certainty for her new son. She's started acquiring debt papers from the Iron Bank. Papers from outstanding debts from all over Westeros. It's a good thing that _we_ don't owe the Iron Bank a thing. The idea to spend my dotage in abject poverty for my grandson's sake doesn't appeal to me at all."

Elia's breathing caught. If her cousin and the Iron Bank demanded payment of all those debts, Westeros would face an even bigger crisis of the one Rhaegar had averted with so many efforts and payment in corpses. "You believe that's what will happen?" She hesitated. "Does the Iron Throne owe them something, do you know?"

Mikkel shook his head to send the serving maid away when she was about to fill a cup for Elia and instead prepared a plate himself. "More honey if you please," Elia said, speading it over her bread. Rhaenys had insisted on sweetmeat; with Aegon, it had been blood oranges; and now this new babe would eat a hive of bees out of honey. _Bears aren't this stupid_ , Elia thought as she chewed.

"I don't know," her uncle replied. "But I can assure you, the Small Council will have a great problem with this either way. The economy of the Seven Kingdoms… the Six Kingdoms now, I suppose… will suffer greatly in the wake of such a demand immediately after the rebellion. Rhaegar will have his hands full."

"I am so sorry," Elia said sarcastically, a smile playing on her lips. _Good old Lanore_ , she thought. _Our Lanore._ One could always rely on her to find the legal way to do what she wanted, even when it had been to shirk an unwanted betrothal. _You had no idea what you were dealing with when you tossed me aside, Rhaegar_ , she thought. With some good luck, he might soon find himself unable to afford new gowns for his wolf-girl. "I wonder why we don't have the Banker," she added thoughtfully. Without economy, no kingdom or city could prosper. Economy deserved a deity of its own. "The Banker's Day would have been a great holiday indeed."

Mikkel didn't answer and she looked at him, surprised. He had turned his face away, his hands gripping the table. Startled, Elia started to ask if he was feeling unwell when his harsh whisper preempted her. "By the Seven, it's the Warrior's Day soon."

Elia rose to go to him, call for Maester Caleotte, do anything to end this moment of horror that she did not understand the reason of. And then, her uncle turned to her again, his eyes black in the light of the sun of Dorne rising from behind the window. "Errol…"

All of a sudden, she knew. The Warrior's Day would be a nightmare to him. His son had been born on, and he wouldn't be there any longer. She didn't know what to say, that guilt choking her again.

"Well, I guess I'll have to learn to live with it, won't I?" Mikkel said after a while and looked at her. His face was entirely smooth, although very pale. "Do not worry about me. Do something about your father if you can. If he accepts your help at all. He's very good at rejecting any such offers," he added.

"Did you make one?" Elia asked sharply.

"No," her uncle answered immediately. "Unsolicited offers for help do him more harm than good. Your mother was the only exception. But do something for him if you can."

"Do not," Vorian's voice said from behind. He took a seat and gave them a warning look. "I know you're both worried but Elia, unless you're sure he won't realize what you're doing, don't try to do anything. It'll only become worse. His pride has taken quite the hit as it is."

"I wish he was different in this respect," Mikkel sighed.

"Don't we all?" Vorian asked wearily. "Unfortunately, your father was right about him. About both of you. Alric will fight to the bitter end and then some and that's a good thing, usually. Bad thing is, he might break in the process instead of retreat when needed to win the war."

Mikkel gave him a look of surprise. "I don't remember him saying any such thing."

"He did, often," his cousin replied. "Just not in front of you. I think I first heard it at the great tourney at King's Landing, at Aerys' birth. When it was just you and Alric left before the last tilt after he unhorsed me. He said that Alric was better prepared… but you'd be the champion."

"That's nonsense!" For the first time, Mikkel looked angry. His purple eyes flickered with a glow of rage that made Elia's breath catch. For the briefest of moments, she actually feared him.

"Was it?" Vorian's eyes, the same shade as Mikkel's, were unruffled. "Who won that tourney, may I ask? Who won the next great one? And the one after that?"

Mikkel didn't reply.

"For triumphing when it matters most, skills and willpower aren't nearly enough." Vorian had yet to touch his plate. "There's a disposition needed, your father said. That Alric was born to fight and you were born to win." He paused. "It was bad luck that he overheard it, though."

"Who?" Mikkel asked, confused. And then, startled. "Alric?! By the Seven, Vorian!"

"What?" Now, his cousin finally looked angry as well. "It was by the time the struggle between the three of us was reaching a new high."

"The struggle between the two of you and I, you mean," Mikkel corrected.

"Perhaps," Vorian sighed. "Alric was then the way he is now. Don't do anything that might wound his pride, Elia. At this moment, it's the only thing he still has left untouched."

"I won't." Elia's voice was soft. Even the babe had gone quiet in her womb, saddened and shocked. "I never knew… I mean, I've heard, but I've never given credence…"

Mikkel patted her hand. "We upset you, didn't we? Pay us no mind. Once, we were as young as you are now. And you must have noticed by now that rivalries between brothers can be the bitterest of all."

_No,_ Elia thought. _How could I?_ The age difference between her own brothers was so great. And Elvar was a Sand which implicitly took him out as a rival for either Doran or Oberyn in so many aspects. _Is that true about Loreza and me as well_ , she wondered. In truth, neither of them was overly competitive by nature. But if they were? She liked the answer not. Suddenly, some of her relief to be back in the home she knew faded. Had she really known it as well as she had thought she did?

"Talking about Arel and I again?" Arthur asked brightly when he came close. "I wouldn't call it bitter but it was… interesting."

Vorian laughed softly. "That's what you think. I've seen worse. So, are you going to the Water Gargens?"

Arthur who had been reaching for an olive left it and looked at Elia, his face uncertain. "I don't know," he said. "Am I?"

"N-" Elia started. The last thing she needed was for someone to wreak havoc in her mind just when she had started calming down. The very last one. And lately, her hunger for Arthur's presence was such that it excited even the babe, causing it to throw a wild party around Elia's ribcage each time she chanced upon him – which was more often than chance could account for. And it wasn't the hunger for the presence of a kinsman, a friend either. Elia had started noticing things like the shape of Arthur's fingers, the way his hair curled slightly at the end, the firmness of his mouth and the breadth of his shoulders… She was so far along with a babe with no father but she could not deny the truth. Arthur was appealing to her… lust. Right now when her conduct needed to be flawless. She'd tell him…

But her lips developed a will of their own. She smiled at him most charmingly and her heart fluttered at his answering smile.

"Yes."

* * *

At the end, she was unable to leave anyone behind. Loreza needed her oversight; Alynna was only too eager to put some distance between herself and her wifely duties; Ranna, of course, had to travel with Elvar who was too weak to ride but the crowds in the Old Palace meant that he had either to stay confined in his chambers or be gawked at like a beast from the menagerie as he made his painful walks in the gardens that were a necessary part of his recovery. Ashara's coming was never in question – the two women still hadn't gotten over the joy of being together after more than a year apart. And the northern ladies were Elia's ladies, having come with her. Where she went, they went as well, at least until she found suitable matches for them.

"I hope, only men who are unwed," Ashara said darkly when Elia expressed this sentiment. "This one seems to have some very wrongful ideas of Dorne," she added. Elia didn't need to ask which one – and then, with a flutter of excitement, she realized what Ashara had said, what she had perceived. This time, for the first time in more than a year, she hadn't taken the line about a naïve girl and a man wed as a veiled reference to her own situation. Of course, Ashara had not meant it this way at all.

Now, Loreza lay huddled on the pillows in Elia's litter, her head turned slightly to one side, golden ringlets falling all the way to the floor. Elia reached out to tame them and Loreza drew back. "It's fine," she said indifferently, although each time she moved, her hair swept the place her slippers had been just a moment ago.

Elia left her to be and instead parted the curtains at her side of the litter. The seaside road was so dear to her heart, she'd never get tired watching it. At her left, the morning sun turned the sea into an endless length of velvet adorned with countless pearls that from time to time, the sudden swell of a greater wave streaked in gold; at her right, vast olive and lemon groves trembled under the caress of the sun, so close that Rhaenys kept trying to reach them though the crack in the curtains.

"No!" Elia said sharply when, after the tenth or so rebuke her daughter squeezed past her to try and pick up a lemon.

Up until now, that tone of voice had always made Rhaenys give up on whatever she was planning. This time, though, it only encouraged her to hurry up and do what she had in mind before her mother stopped her. She leaned half her body through the curtain frame and Elia reached frantically, a shriek frozen in her throat, but her awkward body did not let her turn fast enough.

In the blink of an eye, Loreza shot up, grabbed the little girl from her dangerous hanging pose and snatched her back inside. Elia didn't think: her hand shot forward and delivered a harsh blow straight on Rhaenys' cheek. Her daughter gasped and her eyes welled up but Elia's face was such that Rhaenys didn't dare cry out.

The litter shook and stopped, the servants around the litter asking worriedly if all was well. The lurching when Loreza had thrown herself at the curtain opening had alerted them to something out of order but they had clearly missed the sight of Rhaenys hanging out of the litter. How could they? Elia felt that the moment had lasted years but it had been, in fact, indeed a moment. "We're fine," she called out. "Keep going."

She turned a furious look at Rhaenys. "Don't you dare do this ever again," she only said. "And don't you cry."

Despite Rhaenys' fear and tears, despite her own wish Elia did not comfort her. Her daughter had to feel the punishment in all its might to heed Elia's prohibition. When Loreza reached out, Elia shook her head and Loreza lay back.

Elia pulled the curtains back in place with the feeling that the Water Gardens were as far as King's Landing. From time to time, she could hear voices from the outside, smallfolk who was curious to know who was travelling with a Martell litter but she didn't draw the curtains open again. That brief scene had sapped her energy, terrified her worse than Aerys had. The reality of her situation dawned on her once again in a completely new light: she was now the only one responsible for her children. Their very physical wellbeing. She had to choose their attendants, their septa, their lessons with the maesters. If Rhaenys had fallen from the litter, she would have been the only one at her bedside going beside herself with worry. While she had been raging at Rhaegar for throwing away his duties to his children, she had never stopped to think that he had thrown away the everyday small concerns and the great fears. It was now her lot alone.

All of a sudden, she wished she could just do what her father did: stay in the Water Gardens and never leave.

They continued their journey but on a much slower space now. Elia was in the grip of a headsplitting headache and the sharp movement when she had tried to catch Rhaenys had disturbed the babe and it retaliated with vengeance. Weariness took hold over her bones. The world blurred before her eyes. Often, Loreza yelled for the litter to stop because her sister felt sick.

"What's going on?" a voice welcomed them as soon as they entered through the iron gates of the residence and stopped in the yard reserved for new arrivals. "Is that you, Mellario? Elia? Why aren't you coming out?"

Elia bit her lip, fear shooting through her. Morgan Sand. She was scared of seeing him, looking at him, answering his questions. He would never blame her for anything but she blamed herself anyway. She took a deep breath. "It's me, Morgan," she called out and opened the door. "I didn't know you were here," she said.

"We only arrived this morning," he said. "We were going to make our way to Sunspear by the afternoon. Come here."

He had seen her pallor and lifted her without asking. Elia let him take her out and then embrace her. Her tears came anew when they broke apart and she could have a good look at him. He resembled his father so much, she had forgotten how. In the sunlight, the difference in the colour of eye was not noticeable since Morgan's were almost black anyway.

"Welcome home, Elia," he said and even as she smiled shakily, the thought would not leave her head: if Morgan had gotten his way, if he had been the one sent to the Kingsguard upon her marriage instead of his father, everything might have played out differently. She didn't know how and she certainly didn't want him to be the one who died at the Trident but everything might have been different, somehow. Better.

And then, Arthur came near and she knew that no matter the many ways and moments events could have unfolded differently, the only way for everything to be truly good was for Rhaegar to not be Rhaegar.

* * *

The first time Elia saw Alynna show a lasting emotion other than despair was when they sat in Alric's solar and Morgan told them about his time in Volantis. "I managed to make the contract Doran wanted," he said, "but they were much harder to deal with than any man I have encountered with a spear in hand. Finally, they agreed to limit their transports only to us, in exchange of a reduction in price for all the items bought for House Martell's own needs." He grinned, quite proud of his success. "When Father told me that I shouldn't consider myself to have reached a sufficient prowess in combat skills without finalizing a deal with them with my clothes still on my back, I thought he was jesting. I…"

His smile fell off. Lewyn Martell had said many things to many people, few of those nice, but he'd never have the chance to do so again.

"That's what he told me as well," Alric spoke, to everyone's surprise. His tone was dull and his eyes didn't show a hint of feeling but that was the first time he was ready to acknowledge that something beyond this palace and the waterworks had ever existed, that he had been something other than a doting grandfather once. Much more. "He had had dealings with them before and he knew. How could I have known? But he knew, he warned me, and then he laughed at me when I emerged from the meeting pretty happy that I still knew my own name."

Elia smiled but her hopes that her father would add something, show that he was still having his reasoning and interests proved to be unfounded. He leaned back in his chair and stopped listening to their conversation.

"But I think Naeryn achieved much more than this."

"I wouldn't say so," the woman in question said but Elia knew her well enough to know that she was demurring. "But I am pleased with myself anyway. The Seaward Bank will not lend any money to anyone in Westeros."

Alynna's laughter rang out, loud and malicious. Elia had to admit that there was certain appeal to the image of Rhaegar being forced to deal with subjects who could not make their finances better by lending money from the main bank in Myr when the Iron Bank stopped granting new loans. How had Naeryn achieved it? Was her net of admirers, former lovers, and unsavoury acquaintances so wide? With her small stature, flawless pale skin and eyes whose purple looked even deeper because of her long and strangely dark eyelashes, her cousin looked every bit the lady who was in constant need of protection, an impression reinforced by the fact that she had been born without a left hand but her silver beauty only hid a mind as sharp as any blade and determination that made Rhaegar's pale in comparison. Elia was suddenly struck by the irony that even now, the Blackfyres were still capable of creating some major mischief for the Iron Throne through Maelys the Monstrous' bastard daughter.

_It will never end._

They had just carried the old grudges here. Daemon Blackfyre against Daeron the Good. Aegon the Fourth against Maron Martell. Mariah Martell who had spent her last pregnancy in the ever looming shadow of being repudiated and sent away in shame, whispered about, made unwelcome in the court where her own husband had been the heir. _We'll just take them to the end this time_ , Elia thought, sickened. The first ending had claimed the lives of two boys of twelve. Would this one claim her own children's lives? Her hands went to her belly protectively, she rose and left without looking back even as Loreza cried out something behind her.

That night, she again listened to Alynna weep to no end, the energy stirred up by seeing their revenge take form replaced again by the harsh reality of a lonely bed and a heart aching for someone who was no longer there. She had thought that with her cousin having her own chambers here, she'd be spared this but at night when the children were sleeping, exhausted by their boisterous play in the pools, the marble returned every small noise with cruel clarity.

Elia rubbed her eyes and rose, careful not to wake Rhaenys who had insisted to sleep in her bed once again. She had reached a level of exhaustion that would not even let her sleep, although the babe was being unusually sympathetic, so if she stayed here, she could only turn in bed, listen to Rhaenys' breathing, and try not to listen to Alynna's sobs.

She thought of summoning her daughter's nursemaid but decided against it. She'd be back soon. A look at Rhaenys, another one at Aegon in his chamber, and she was already walking down the gallery that lead to the Circle Garden, with its bright southern flowers and jasmine bushes. At night, their scent was more pervasive and she stopped to stare at the moon carving a path right thought the heart of a cluster of bushes. Then, she resumed walking, reached the fluted arches, passed underneath and descended the small staircase, very carefully. From there, it was only a small garden and another archway separating her from the pools the children splashed in. She sat on a marble bench nearby, kicked her slippers off and with a sigh of delight dipped her feet into the warm water.

The relief was instantaneous. Although she had been unable to see her feet for a few weeks now, she didn't need anyone to tell her that they were constantly swollen – she could feel it. Not that it stopped anyone from informing her. The water took some of the pressure away and Elia looked up and stared at the constellations over her head. The Sword of the Morning glowed with the brightest light. Of course!

"Are you stargazing?" the earthly Sword of the Morning asked from her right and Elia startled and calmed down in almost the same moment. She hadn't seen him sitting at the huge stone table children had their dinner served on, a lamp next to him and a knife and a piece of wood in his hands.

"Kind of."

He didn't ask any questions but her weariness, the warm breeze of the night and the soothing silence brought her to sincerity. "I ran away, actually. Even from my bedchamber, I could hear Alynna crying."

He nodded, not surprised at all. "Arel also sleeps poorly." He paused. "And how are you, Elia? How do you sleep? I heard that Rhaenys…"

"Don't!" she stopped him. "I don't want to think what might have happened. Almost in my own arms. I was so scared…" She paused. "What are you doing? A wooden figurine? I remember you loved making those years ago."

"It still gives me joy sometimes," he said and Elia squinted, trying to see his work better. He covered it with his palm protectively. "Only when I'm ready," he said. "Why did you leave in such a hurry today?"

Elia considered, wriggling her toes in the water. He resumed cutting his thing from the wood.

"I couldn't stand it anymore," she said. "I wed Rhaegar for peace and look what happened! My father is tired of life. Alynna is either vengeful or a sobbing mess. Elvar still needs help to sit down. We're undoing what Maron Martell won for us, by the Mother!"

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asked, rising.

"I wish things were not what they were."

"But do you regret it?"

"No," Elia said. "What?" There was panic in her voice now because he was coming near.

"I thought you might want to submerge your entire calves in the pool. It might be good for you."

Elia laughed in surprise, and blushed, and then said she didn't want that because couldn't do it on her own. Arthur would have to lower her down and then take her up, and with these new disturbing feelings she was developing for him, Elia didn't want to be a bundle that he carried around and dropped down, bent double under its weight.

But he was already there, lowering her just like she had wanted to and the relief of the water made her forget about her apprehensions. Arthur returned at the table and kept carving his figurine that Elia still couldn't see. Slowly, her sudden desire for him to kiss her died away. She felt content to be around him this way. It was so peaceful. Even when he hauled her off the water, it was still peaceful. And then he bowed his head over her foot to put a slipper back on and her passion for him came roaring back. He repeated the procedure with the other foot and Elia gasped, his very touch at one of her sensitive places setting her afire.

"What's going on, Arthur?" she asked and he rose from his crouch.

"I don't know," he replied hoarsely. "This…"

When their mouths broke apart, Elia stood, her breathing labored, and stared at him, her mind completely blown off. Arthur wasn't the first man who had kissed her. Even Rhaegar hadn't been that. But it had never felt so… fulfilling. So… fitting. He was fitting her, completing her, making her…

"No, Arthur, I'm asking you an honest question," she said sternly. She was a woman of six and twenty, not a blushing maid of sixteen dreaming for her great love. Arthur wasn't that anyway. She had known him for years.

He looked perplexed. "I am not sure," he said. "I think I have started falling in love with you."

The whole situation was so preposterous that Elia could easily believe it a dream, a mummer play written in extremely bad taste. His confusion wasn't flattering to her in the least and her reasoning that he wasn't her great love was hardly befitting in the aftermath of a kiss that had swept her off her feet.

"When you make up your mind, tell me," she said. "I'd like to know. Perhaps it'll help me make up mine."

"I will," he promised and promptly turned his back on her, clearing small pieces of wood away.

Despite being in a maze, like him, Elia fell prey to her curiosity: she crept over to see the item he had been hiding from her. This time, he looked at her with a smile and held out the figure for her: a small cat, a cat that looked familiar. "For Rhaenys," he said and then, despite the implications that were as clear as a bright day, despite the sheer absurdity of it, despite everything, Elia was no longer uncertain. No, she was in love.

 


	10. The Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you truly nourish my inspiration!

The first time Elia saw Alynna smile was when her twin children showed her what accomplished swimmers they had become.

"She is a mother?" Coral asked, looking shocked. "But she's never mentioned children…"

Elia was pleased that Loreza wasn't around to glare at the girl. Her sister had become quite adept at making Coral shut up. On the other hand, Coral needed this sobering down. She seemed to take in with great interest and approval everything new in her life in Dorne. Everything but Alynna.

"She's grieving," Elia said softly. "She cannot take care of her children properly and the most loving thing she could have done was what she, in fact, did: have them away from the horror of not only losing their father but their mother as well, just in a different way. And send them where they would be loved and taken care of. That's what being a mother is about."

Coral blushed. "I meant no disrespect," she said, looking Elia straight in the eye. "Truly. I… I heard what Lady Dayne went through. I can't even imagine. I just…"

"I know," Elia sighed, pushing the book with descriptions of old customs of state receptions away. She had been this young once. She knew what harbouring an infatuation on one who didn't even realize it felt like. If she could turn time back, she would so not revert to this age when everything was so clear cut and feelings were felt so much more sharply.

She looked at the girl, warning in her eyes even as she was saying softly, "She will get better. And she'll have a long and happy life with her husband, the children she already has had, and the ones she'll give him."

Coral looked down. "Of course."

So they all went to a pool that was free of water fights, reserved just for swimming, and Alynna smiled as her black-haired children spanned the water like eels.

Elia wanted so much to believe her own words.

Against her skin, the babe waved her extremities frantically, as if she wanted to join the competition.

"I'll teach her to swim when she grows old enough," Arthur whispered in Elia's ear. Without looking at him, she clasped his hand and her heart soared. She had never told him that she believed the unborn little one was a girl, for she was not sure if it was her instinct, or her wish to see – well, hear – Rhaegar squirm at the news. But Arthur knew, he had felt it somehow. He knew her better than Rhaegar ever had. Rhaegar had only seen her sweetness, her wit, her fierce devotion to what she held dear – but Arthur knew the little sand demon of revengefulness and glee she disliked and had tried to obliterate all her life. Of course, without the demon she might not have survived. If kindness had been all there was to her, she could have never gotten over the unkindness Rhaegar had done to them.

"Where were you last night?" she asked in a low voice. Instead of going to the pools as she had promised him, she had fallen asleep on her couch surrounded by papers, books and drafts of the seats and entertainments she was planning for the first grand occasion at the Old Palace.

"Chasing after other women, of course, after my lady deceived me," he replied easily. Elia gave him a sharp look and he laughed. "It was a jest, Elia, just a jest."

"It'd better be," she murmured. It was strange how quickly she had taken it as a given that she'd have a relationship with him when she was able to, well, have a relationship. When she could out her own shoes on would be a great start. Why not? She was no longer constrained by her own conscience that dictated she stayed faithful to her husband and while she didn't accept the grounds for her repudiation as valid ones, she didn't feel wed either. Rhaegar had left her life, her affection. She felt free to do anything she wanted, provided that she was discreet – not because she cared about her reputation so much but because she wouldn't give Rhaegar and his she-wolf the satisfaction to claim that her children were not Rhaegar's.

"It is," Arthur assured her, his eyes serious now when he realized that it wasn't a jest to her.

She smiled at him to show that she wasn't angry. "I am being foolish, aren't I?" she asked. He had lived without women for years. What made her fear that he'd be unable to go without for a few months now?

He didn't reply but Naeryn provided her with an answer. "Very," she said lazily, eyes still following the children in the water. Naeryn could swim a little but not for long and it was not a favourite activity of hers because it demanded the balance that she was naturally deprived of. One needed two hands and she only had one. "I haven't seen a man so besotted with a woman since Gillerd was courting Loreza," she said and paused, the familiar names having left her lips without any thought. They all had to work so much on accepting their new reality! It was a good thing that Loreza wasn't here to hear this!

In the silence that followed they were quite relieved when Morgan came over, breaking the spell, and called Arthur away with a question about an armoury or a boundary, they weren't quite sure which.

"Do you want to come with us?" Morgan asked, looking at Alric.

He didn't answer at once, as if the question had traveled a long time before reaching him, and then he replied, "I have full trust in the two of you. I don't think I'll be needed."

Elia bit her lip and when the two men left, she hesitated but suggested, "Father, do you think you could go back to Sunspear with us? I've got quite the entertainments planned. You've always enjoyed water tournaments."

"Both watching and getting wet when you took part," Naeryn added with calculated cheerfulness.

He smiled or rather, tried to. "Perhaps I'll do it for the next occasion," he answered and his eyes moved to the pool again, fixed on the children. Once again, he had proven that he could not be reached.

"They are so sweet, aren't they?" Naeryn asked after a while. She was looking at the children as well now, and Elia hesitated once again. One look at her father told her that Alric had retreated into his world that terrified her so. He took no interest in their conversation. In another pool, Loreza was paddling with the children – her own son, Rhaenys and, to the girl in question profound resentment, Lady Nym.

"She doesn't look too happy, does she?" Elia commented and Naeryn laughed.

"In a day or three, she'll be ready to join the water fights. But no matter how much she dislikes the situation, we can't let her go in before she has learned to keep herself at the surface, at least. She doesn't believe it but she'll drown."

There was such affection and longing in her words that Elia decided to take the risk and ask.

"Naeryn, I know you don't want to get wed but why are you so dead on against having children? I think you want them. It isn't as if they're going to lack for anything…"

"Except for a limb or two, perhaps," her cousin replied, her voice tight with sarcasm. "But let's leave that aside for now. Why don't you ask Morgan this question? Or Elvar, for that matter? Any child of theirs won't lack for anything either, yet they are careful not to have them."

Elia was stunned. She had never expected such a reaction. She had always thought that Naeryn was happy with them. That they all were. She didn't know what to say.

"I want to have a babe more than anything," Ashara said softly from Elia's other side.

"I know," Elia said and patted her hand. "You will."

"Will I?" Ashara's violet eyes were wide with fear. She had rejected this gift when she had been given it.

"Yes," Elia said firmly and cheered when the twins returned to their side of the pool for the third time – or was it fourth? The sun was lulling everyone to soft content and hope, the babe had calmed down, leaving her comfortable, and Alynna was smiling.

* * *

"But that's the Water Gardens!"

Coral had been about to say the exact same thing and was surprised to hear it come out in another voice. The wife of the Sealord of Braavos, the Princess' cousin – how many of those did she have? Each time Coral thought she had met the last one, she heard a new name or saw a new face. The one-handed one was the most troubling of all, not even trying to hide her interest in men and flirting more shamelessly than any other woman Coral had ever come across…

The Princess laughed, pleased with the success of her idea. Sugar, almonds, walnuts, and dough were formed into an almost perfect replica of her beloved childhood home, up to the edges of the pools. There were even a few heads sticking out from the white water. Coral could not identify what they were made of but she was determined to find out. Too bad a few of the ladies of the Free Cities accompanying the Sealord on this supposedly family visit seemed to have the same intent.

"You were always full of ideas, Elia," Lanore Gargalen now said and laughed. "I must admit that I was eager to see what you'd do this time. Even in Braavos, we've already heard of the receptions and entertainments that you arranged. I've met no less than six men contemplating the option to move here permanently just to be near you and your inspiration. I can swear two of them are in love with you already."

"You're such a jester," Elia scolded, smiling. Inwardly, she was incredibly grateful for the effort her cousin was putting forth. Although not lacking in charm by any means, Lanore was reserved and serious by nature. Such playful exaggerations were not her at all, yet she was doing her best to help Elia play the part Doran had allotted her, the part that had been so much easier before the blood started soiling her undergarments ever so often. It was so hard to put on a charming face when inwardly, she was terrified that her babe was dying inside her.

"Not at all," Lanore said. "I'll take the gallery," she instructed the servants who were carrying the pieces cut with utmost diligence so none of the elements would be spoiled. "And while we're here, I'll visit there, of course."

"Of course," Elia agreed, examining her. Ten years of unhappiness had managed to change even Lanore. Once, she would have refused to wed her husband's rival who had indirectly contributed to his death. But the former Sealord had been old and ailing for a long time while the new one was young, energetic and most importantly, smitten with her. The fact that her rigid cousin looked actually content in her new marriage that had finally blessed her with a child only strengthened Elia's own resolve to take what she wanted of life. Namely, Arthur Dayne.

"What is it that I'm hearing about Arthur lavishing gifts upon you?" Lanore asked as if on cue. "Even in Braavos… And now, Ashara has been telling me about a cat who looked like a ball of fur, three times more fluffy than any cat she had ever seen…"

"It isn't for me," Elia explained, well aware that the women around her were listening eagerly. "Not entirely. Arthur knows I love cats and Rhaenys has Balerion already, so he thought it would be nice if I got a cat who'll have her babes around the time I have mine. This way, my new girl will have a kitten from the start."

She was doing her best to sound normal. Ordering herself to stop with those exsessive explanations, she started eating a pool. She didn't know why Doran wasn't doing anything about Arthur's very public courting of her. At the same time, she was quite amused by the unique way Arthur went about it. A sword for Aegon who had barely started walking, noisy anklets for Rhaenys, decorations for the unborn babe's cradle… What kind of man expressed his interest in a woman this way? It was funny and endearing. It was also working. And of course, she had no reason to be embarrassed. Arthur had never given her anything that could be interpreted as intended for her alone. Not publicly, at least.

"Rhaenys looked very excited about the cat as well," Lanore said. "Is she going to attend the water tourney tomorrow?"

The interest of the Essosi ladies was immediate. They hadn't seen such a game that had been abandoned for a long time even in Dorne. Elia was about to reply that yes, Rhaenys loved water tourneys when a sharp pain in her lower belly left her unable to breathe as for the first time in her riddled with hardships experiences in the birthing bed, her child tried to emerge almost a month too early.

* * *

It turned out to be Elia's easiest labour which surprised her a great deal. Oh, it hurt just as much as she remembered and expected – the time between her births had been too short to let her forget. But this time, no one looked panicked that they were losing her or the babe. Everyone gave the air of calm competence and having Ranna at her side filled her with assurance that she was getting the best care possible. Between pains, she sipped water – she felt incredibly thirsty since she was throwing up anything she managed to swallow. It was a good thing that she hadn't felt very hungry at the feast!

Qiuckly and steadily, her world shrank to the sensation of pain until she no longer knew what she was doing, who she was and why she was being tortured like this. She only begged for death, for in her fogged up mind that was the only thing that could save her from the agony. Only from time to time, when the pain lessened a little, she remembered what was going on and asked how the babe was. "You're doing great," they answered each time, and at one point she heard a wail and wondered why she was hearing a babe crying when, by her sensations, there was still a babe inside! She opened her mouth but before she could ask, Ranna exclaimed, "Your child is coming into this world star-browed, Elia!" and then pushed her thighs more apart and applied pressure to help the babe fully come out. "Push now, push!"

Elia did and the relief was greater than anything she had ever experienced. The babe was out in a single push, still yelling her indignation at being forced into their world so early and unceremoniously. As they cleaned the blood and mucus off her, Elia's breath caught at her perfection. Dark hair and white skin, arms and legs waving furiously. And there, on her recently washed forehead, there was indeed a star, right above her eyebrows. One of those wine-coloured birth marks that usually served to attract superstitions and take from the loveliness of their bearer, especially if they were big, like this one was. Why was her babe's so perfectly formed?

Elia eagerly started waiting to expel the afterbirth. She didn't think much of it, it was just the thing after which she'd be able to hold her babe. But after a while, she realized that something wasn't right. She felt no pain, no urge to push. Nothing. The faces around her became more concerned as time dragged off. The newborn was still crying at first but then stopped. From time to time, Ranna checked between Elia's legs.

"It isn't coming out," she finally said. "We have… we have to take it out. Before a bleeding starts. Drink this, Elia."

Obediently, Elia drained the cup. Sometime between the checks, fear had settled in her stomach, fear that the maesters', midwives', her aunt's expressions only served to aggravate. "Am I going to die?" she asked, or at least she thought she had. It might have all been in her head as the draught took her to unconsciousness.

"Am I going to die?" she asked when she woke up two days later. This time, it was a mere move of her lips but Ranna understood her anyway.

"No," she said. "No, you're going to live."

Only when they placed a babe in her arms amidst a mountain of pillows and the wet nurse settled nearby, ready to catch her immediately if Elia dropped her did Elia feel that it was over. She stroked the tiny lips, the chin, the little nose. Violet eyes stared back at hers with the expression of utter concern - and the star of fire above them glowed, in her eyes at least. They have made it, Elia thought and looked at the door, for a moment expecting Rhaegar to show up as he always had before.

But of course, he didn't come in. He never would. He had left this babe at the mercy of fate just like he had their older ones. The pain in her heart matched the one in her lower belly and between her legs as she stared at this babe, this Sand.

"What are you going to name her, Elia?" Ranna asked after a while. "We cannot go around calling her the Babe forever."

_Visenya!_ That was Elia's first, impulsive answer. Well, not impulsive. She'd been thinking about that for months. This chance to wound Rhaegar, to rub into his face his dreams for the daughter that he had expected of Lyanna. But no, she could not let hatred and resentment into the very beginning of her child's life, it's very core. Besides, that would only make her look weak, a pathetic woman hysterically insisting for something that was no longer hers. No.

The answer that brought her composure came to her lips as soon as she discarded the Visenya option. A name that she could say without hate, a name that would give her daughter her heritage nonetheless. "Dyanna."

Dyanna made a little puff, as if she agreed, and fell asleep on her mother's chest.

 


	11. In a Star's Wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all for keeping my interest in this work by showing yours.

The news flew all around the Seven Kingdoms before Elia even left her bed and the reactions were all too different. In Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin Lannister started experiencing doubts in his judgment. He had waited for almost three years for the Dornishwoman to die in childbirth but she hadn't, even after the humiliation of being sent away. Perhaps he should either do something about the Northern girl or move in a different direction altogether? Lord Tully had an heir who, in a few years, would be a man, after all.

In the North, Eddard Stark looked away but his wife's disapproving eyes kept haunting him even as he sought composure in the godswood. He knew that Catelyn disliked Lyanna. She only called her "your sister" or occasionally, "the Queen" with so much derision that sometimes he wanted to snap at her. But today, she couldn't reproach him worse than he did himself. This child born to the Dornish princess would lack for naught, of course, but it would still be a Sand. There would be no glorious match for her. No "Your Grace". He had supported taking that away from her before she was even born.

In the Eyrie, Jon Arryn laughed aloud. "A good girl," he said and no one of those who heard him could say if he meant the babe or her mother.

In Seaguard, Daenaera Mallister only smiled. "Three children in less than four years," she said. "Our new queen will have to put forth much effort to surpass this. And she'd better hurry up… after all, that's what she was chosen for, wasn't it?"

"Does the babe look like me?" Daena asked eagerly. She'd been fascinated with Aegon's fair hair and purple eyes. She had never met any child who resembled her. Everyone said she took after her grandmother but it wasn't the same. Daenaera was _old_.

"You'll see when you arrive there," Daenaera said. Jason's idea to take his daughter along was, in fact, a very good one. Daena would love it in the Water Gardens. At Seaguard, everyone was aware that their children were not her equal in rank, so she didn't have many friends. Just companions. Daella would love meeting her. Daenaera regretted the mistakes and the whims of fate that had parted her from her family. Jason and Amabel didn't know them at all. She wouldn't deprive Daena of this experience. "You'll see…"

In Storm's End, Stannis Baratheon shook his head. "We'll see. Even Robert took care of that bastard girl of his back in the Eyrie," he said and then scowled, remembering that _he_ had done nothing to take care of the girl.

At King's Landing, Lyanna heard the news in displeasure until a certain detail turned that to dread. "A red star?" she asked sharply. "Are you sure it isn't just something about the vernix? Something that will wash away with time?"

But of course, the letter could give her no answer. Except that it did, mentioning of many of the Prince of Dorne's greatest bannermen and even foreign visitors coming to see the scarlet star.

"They must have painted it on her forehead," Rhaegar said, trying for composure. Elia had been hurt and offended enough when she left to do such a thing knowing that she'd terrify him for a few weeks… months… however long she could manage. He now wished he had done more than sending her some gifts for the babe, some golden dragons – both of which she had promptly return without as much as a note – and a few stilted words that had tried to express his hope for a safe delivery. On the other hand, he could have sent her all the gold in Casterly Rock and it wouldn't have made a difference. Elia hated him. She didn't even bother to reply to his letters personally but made Ashara Dayne write two sentences that told him the children were fine and nothing more. Nothing about their lives. If they had grown used to their new circumstances. If they had forgotten him already. What was a star compared to that?

But Lyanna, in that way of hers to give voice to her thoughts that had started to irk him a little, whispered, " _Born beneath a bleeding star_... Rhaegar? Is this possible that it means…"

"Say no more," he snapped, terrified by the sudden urge to hit her. Do anything that was needed to make her hold her tongue. No one should speak aloud the fear that was already creeping down his spine.

She drew back as if he had slapped her. Her eyes were full of… something. For a terrifying moment Rhaegar wondered if she was envisioning herself giving birth to the real promised prince while far away in the south, little Dyanna Sand's life was bleeding out of her veins. If she gloried in that. They had been so happy and taken by their dreams in the Tower of Joy! But Rhaegar had always imagined the bleeding star to be a comet like the one that had lit the sky at the night of Aegon's conception. Or at least a celestial body. He had never imagined it to be a living thing. Not his own child, for certain!

"But why was she born like this?" Lyanna finally asked; surprised, Rhaegar saw in the tight line of her lips and the darker shade of her eyes a shadow of those moments of doubt that had marred their relationship in the very beginning, when from time to time she had told him that she didn't belong here, that they should just leave prophecy and fate to take care of themselves. She looked for all the world like a child who didn't know how to find her way in a dense forest. "This isn't… normal. It can't be good."

Rhaegar wanted to believe that it was out of concern for the newborn that she was saying those dark things. But they had been through too many requests that she read his letters before he send them to Dorne, too many times when she had been reproaching him for sending gifts that were befitting royal children and not Sands. Too many quarrels when she had insisted that he was demeaning himself in the face of Elia's rejection. _You behave as you're still wed and answerable to her_ , she had accused repeatedly, her insecurity becoming far worse after finding out that he had bedded Elia before the Trident. While he had always tried to soothe it and stifle his irritation, now he saw her question as something ugly and ill-wishing. She couldn't really hate a child, could she? She couldn't know how she sounded, as if she was referring to a monster, someone as unnatural as Maelys Blackfyre.

"I don't know," he finally said. "A coincidence, I think."

Lyanna believed him with eagerness that unsettled him again. Born beneath a bleeding star… It was possible that they were discussing the death of a child, his child, in the wake of the new life that had to come from Lyanna's womb, and she was so quick to dismiss the possible horror of it happening. But wasn't that the same passion that had delighted him so? He and the children they were bound to have had been Lyanna's world almost two years ago and that had been the best feeling in his life. It was hardly her fault that his feelings had changed so abruptly now, with the arrival of this star-browed babe. At least she no longer raged that she was the laughingstock of the Seven Kingdoms, with Elia getting with child just when the world had been getting used to the idea that she, Lyanna, was Rhaegar's wife now.

"She must be very lovely indeed," Lyanna suddenly said; surprised, Rhaegar said that she was almost smiling. "Star-browed foals were among the comeliest I have ever seen."

_She isn't a beast_ , Rhaegar thought angrily. _She's a child. A dragon._

But she wasn't really, was she? She was a Sand. Even from the birthing bed, Elia was dealing him a blow. The queen who never was, Dyanna Dayne from whom they were both descended. The princess who should have been, Dyanna Sand. For the first time, Rhaegar felt the chill of deadly fear for the children that he had rejected. Had he unwittingly offered them as a sacrifice? Was the star on this babe's forehead the unblessing of the Seven, the curse of the ones who were neither needed nor wanted? Was it his doing?

* * *

In Dorne, Elia's thoughts were far removed from curses and sacrifices. Instead, she was making her first steps leaning heavily on Oberyn's arm while near the bed, Coral cradled the babe and cooed at her.

"Just one more," Oberyn stated. "You're going back to bed after this one."

Elia didn't protest. In fact, she was quite surprised by her own weakness. She couldn't stand. Sunlight hurt her eyes. The children's babble and excitement threatened to make her deaf. She couldn't even hold Dyanna on her chest for long because her arms got tired of supporting her in the right position and she was scared of accidentally suffocating her. Had she lost this much blood?

She knew that Loreza and the rest of them knew more than she did – she couldn't help but notice the looks they changed, the whispers. But they weren't going to tell her, so she decided to peel the truth from the one who was least prepared to deny or lie to her outright. "What happened, Coral? After I passed out? Why am I so weak?"

But to her shock, the girl looked at her and lied straight in the eyes. "I don't know, Princess. Truly."

She had spent too much time in Ashara's company, clearly!

It was Ranna who told her the truth, one month after Dyanna's birth, when Elia was strong enough to cross the gallery, reach the terrace, and sit down next to her father for seven days in a row. While in the beginning one of her attendants was always on her heels, watching like a hawk to make sure that she wouldn't go to sleep and drop the babe, sometime on the second day it became clear that Alric was better than a hawk in this regard: although he seemed to have forgotten his words and only did one thing, namely watching the children in the pools all day , every day, he noticed even the smallest hint of danger to either his daughter or granddaughter: he pushed a glass in Elia's hand when her eyes became just a little hazy, took Dyanna when Elia didn't correct her position as soon as she changed it, rose to carry her around when she opened her mouth even before she actually cried. Elvar joined them as well and it was with him that Elia made most of her conversations. He was still navigating his way to normal speech with his torn mouth but he was making progress. And his way to smiling had been quite a shorter one. He now smiled each time Rhaenys dashed to the terrace to have a look at the babe and then straighten his eyelid and mouth, proclaiming him better and _hadsamer_. The fact that they drooped as soon as she drew her hand back seemed to escape her notice and he wouldn't tell her. Then, she turned to Alric. "Tell me a story," she begged and he obliged. She loved the stories of Elia's childhood the best. It awed her that her mother had once been a little girl.

"As little as me?" she asked each time.

"Exactly," Alric would confirm and start talking. With each of the stories she remembered – or not – Elia became more in touch with the child she had been. Here. In Dorne. She needn't be unhappy forever. It was Rhaegar who was at loss. She still had her children and a clear conscience. He had neither if his letters were any indication.

But when Elia saw her aunt's expression, she knew that it was the end of those days of tranquility. As if led by an unspoken agreement, Elvar and Alric rose. Coral came to take the babe and Loreza appeared out of nowhere, claiming their father's seat next to Elia. Even the noise from the pools seemed to grow fainter. Could children feel other people's fear?

Ranna took a seat on the couch beside Elia. "I think you're strong enough now," she said. "I know you've been asking about the day she was born."

"What?" Elia asked, her throat dry.

"Do you remember that the afterbirth didn't come out?" Ranna asked.

Elia frowned. "You gave me a potion," she said. "Didn't it help?"

No, it must have. She wouldn't have been alive if it hadn't.

"It did," Ranna said, taking her hand. "But it wasn't meant to help you expel it. Sometimes, draught helps but too often, it comes out with bleeding so heavy that it kills the new mother."

"But it didn't kill me."

Ranna looked down at their entwined fingers. Then, she looked up again, bracing herself. "It was meant to make you go to sleep, Elia. I was afraid that with all the bleedings you'd had in the last month, the afterbirth wouldn't come out as it should at all. And it didn't."

"It didn't?" Elia didn't understand. Chills crept through her and she suddenly wanted to move away from Ranna, go into the sunlight.

"Your afterbirth was clinging to your womb, just as I feared," her aunt said, resorting to the simplest explanation. The only way to take it out before a bleeding started was to take the womb out."

Elia gasped. "I… I don't have a womb now?" she asked numbly.

"No," Ranna said. "You don't."

She kept explaining about the way such complications killed women immediately upon giving birth and that Elia was safe from such complications now, that there had been no way for her to keep both her life and womb… Elia barely heard her. No children anymore. None.

"Thank you, Aunt," she said when she finally realized that Ranna had stopped talking and both she and Loreza were staring at her expectantly. "I am grateful, truly… Thank you."

She rose and walked away still unsteadily but now with the additional weight of all the horror of a thousand years. No children anymore.

It was all a moot point, of course, as she realized many hours later as darkness encroached upon the Gardens and she sat alone in her bedchamber, hugging her knees on her bed. She couldn't have had children anyway. She couldn't wed again, not if she wanted to regain her status as the true queen who had been casted away in an aberration of justice. She could only be Rhaegar's children's mother. But hearing it was so hard to take. It wasn't her and Arthur's decision to make anymore. Just her body reaching the limit of its capabilities. No, it was Ranna cheating the Stranger when Elia's body had been the way to succumb to that limit.

No more children.

Tears had been falling down her cheeks for hours but she hadn't thought to wipe them when Arthur came in, a lamp in his hand. One look was enough for him to take the situation in immediately. He came close, a piece of cloth in his hand. "Blow," he said and Elia obeyed. Of course, she had done nothing about the snot either.

Arthur produced another piece of cloth and wetted it from the ewer to wipe her face. With the briefest of hesitations, he reached out and when Elia didn't stop him, unlaced her robe. His breath caught at the sight of her, even now. So many years in King's Landing had almost deprived him of the memory what women _looked_ like. He felt decidedly uncomfortable when his body reacted. Fortunately, a look at Elia's devastated face put an end to this.

He looked around for the nightdress that the women had put out on a chair. Elia let him put it on her, only lifting her arms like a child. He placed her in bed and wondered if he should summon a maester. She was so cold in the warm night. But then, instinct told him that it was not the way to go. Instead, he undressed and got beneath the covers next to her without dousing the flame in the lamp.

Slowly, Elia turned to him and pressed her face against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm about her. "You can cry," he told her, his voice rumbling with husky tenderness. "You have that right."

 


	12. A New Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you're a great inspiration!

"Can I have a word with you?" the weather-beaten man asked, startling him. "My lord," he added as an afterthought.

"Of course," Jason Mallister replied, tearing his eyes away from the yellow-and-green ship – yellow-and-green? That was rich even for a Tyroshi vessel – to look at the old sea dog. Standing next to Amabel, the man proved that he was indeed Haggert the Short, not quite reaching her chin and about as wide as he was tall. But he was one of the most competent captains Seagard had. It was a shame that Jason had never sailed with him before. But why should he have? There were more than enough ships and crews that _needed_ control and oversight.

"We'll reach Sunspear in a few hours," the captain said.

Jason waited. Surely Haggert hadn't come here to inform him of the obvious?

"I thought I should warn you that we might have some trouble entering."

Jason's first thought was that Doran Martell had closed Dorne's ports off. No, that couldn't be right. They had stopped at the Dornish coastline twice already. And even if the Prince had issued such an order, Haggert had no way of having _received_ the news. They were in the open sea. "Why would you think so?"

"Because of the ships," the sea dog replied. "Today, we've encountered eight trading ships, three of them Tyroshi parrots," he went on and spat over the railing. "I'm sorry, my lady," he excused, not quite looking at Amabel. She didn't say anything but she didn't look revolted either. She was learning, as Jason noted, amused. Daena squirmed and tried to escape her aunt's grip but Amabel just squeezed harder and gave her a stern look just when the little girl was about to emulate the captain's rude gesture.

Someone further down along the bow laughed. Jason wondered what had happened. The child that had boarded the _Silver Witch_ was not the same he was seeing now. She just looked like her. Less than a week aboard, she had grown… wild. Time and, no doubt, her septa's seasickness made it worse.

"You were saying something about ships?" Jason asked.

"Yes. It's a trading season. There will be a jam at the port. I've seen it before. Usually, they make a schedule to help matters but it's always long and tedious. Unless it's important that we land at Sunspear, I'd recommend disembarking at the Water Gardens and take it from there on dry land. It just isn't worth the hassle."

Jason considered – not the captain's words but the implications the man was probably unaware about. The sight of the ships had been irking him for a while. So many of them meant good trade which, in turn, meant that Dorne wasn't as affected by the sudden decision of the Iron Bank to demand payment of all the sums that were its due. He had started feeling the effects in Seagard, although he, personally, had no such debts, blessed be the Seven.

"Are there any dangers from come to anchor in the bay of the Water Gardens?" he asked, recollecting the charts he had seen. As far as he could say, there would be no unpleasant surprises but he'd need to have a look.

"No," Haggert replied at once. "I've been there before. There's even a chance that we could replenish our supplies from there, without going into the main port."

Jason wondered how the crew would like that. After being at sea, men insisted for their days of rest and pleasure in the towns and cities nearby. _I forget. That's one of the toughest bastards in our fleet. He can hang anyone he wants without eliciting as much as a squeak from the rest of them_.

"Let's go to the Water Gardens then," he said.

"Is the Princess there?" Daena asked excitedly.

"She might be," her father replied, his stomach flipping over with the renewed fear that she'd say all the wrong things. Her grandmother and aunt had talked to her repeatedly but she was a child. Things would be uncomfortable enough in the beginning even without such complications.

Around them, sea and sky were deepening their aquamarine into rich shades that would later bloom into indigo and dark violet. The further south ships went, the more saturated colours became, especially at night. "Bluer than any blue I have ever seen," Jason's lady grandmother had used to say. "So uncouth!" And she had never ever gone down this route, let alone set a foot in the Free Cities where sapphire and garnet were the shade of sea at any time of day.

"It's so beautiful," Amabel murmured and Jason smiled, looking at the new golden tinge of her skin. It felt like forever since she had smiled out of enjoyment of something.

The white palace emerged from the blue and amber horizon some time later and Daena gasped with delight. When they dropped anchor, Jason carried her to the boat and then out of it, knowing that for a while, she'd be unable to get her footing straight. She squirmed to get free.

"We're here!" she squealed out. "The Princess is here!"

"How do you know?" Jason asked tiredly, set her ashore and turned to help Septa Lynel but one of the sailors was already taking care of this.

"Because she's here!" his daughter replied, pointing excitedly at the pair striding towards them – a man and a young girl. "She's Princess Elia's lady in-waiting."

He wasn't sure if he should trust her or dismiss her words as a child's fanciful imagination. Besides, there was no time. The pair was already close enough for them to hear each other.

"Welcome to the Water Gardens," the man said politely. "In the Prince of Dorne's name, may I inquire what your names are?"

"Mallister," the girl supplied and smiled at Daena. "I know this lady. Daenaera Mallister, if I remember correctly?"

The man's smile became instantly friendlier. "I am Arel Dayne," he introduced himself. "And I am happy to meet you. This is Lady Coral Hightide. She serves the Princess."

So he didn't refer to Elia Martell as the Queen? Interesting. A look at Amabel didn't show him that she thought something was out of order. She was smiling at Dayne like any maiden waiting to be introduced to a good-looking man. Perhaps he was reading too much into a few words.

But the sights and people he saw in the palace clashed so sharply with what he had expected that he wondered if he had taken it all wrong. Perhaps Elia Martell was reconciled to her fate, accepted that she had no future but that of a humiliated, repudiated no-longer-queen? His first look at her made his scorn dissolve without any residue. She was ill. Weak from the childbirth. His contempt for the King grew stronger than ever. What man took for granted that his wife's health was his property that he wasn't obliged to compensate with respect and kindness? Jason could count to nine. The dragon king had bedded Elia Martell when he had already known that he'd send her away. Had he hoped that he'd get her with child that might finally succeed to kill her?

"Did he want to kill her?" he murmured and only when Amabel gasped, he realized that he had said it aloud.

Elia Martell laughed and the woman sitting next to her gave him a look of approval. "I can see we'll get along greatly, Cousin," she said and rose to greet them. "I am Naeryn Sand and I'm happy to meet you."

Jason ordered himself not to look. He wouldn't be this rude. Instead, he focused on her face. A delightful face, that was. She was extremely beautiful, with the silver hair and deep violet eyes that he had only seen in the Red Keep and on the portraits his mother kept. When she looked at him again, he realized why they called her a sorceress… and a whore. He felt the incredible sensuality clinging to her like a second skin and yet, she didn't seem to be doing anything to achieve this effect. Instead, as the Princess was exchanging her first words with Amabel, Naeryn looked at Daena who was staring at her open-mouthed. Jason was about to reply to the courtesy when his daughter asked, "Are you really my aunt, my lady?"

"Yes," Naeryn replied. "I am. Isn't it obvious?"

Daena started nodding so vigorously that for the first time Jason realized how much she had longed to have a relation that looked like her. Someone other than her grandmother, that was it. He chanced a look at the hand that had made her famous by not being there – and she caught him looking. A slight blush overcame her cheeks and he could just feel Amabel and Elia both giving him a look of disapproval. Naeryn's smile vanished.

In a flash of genius, Jason reached for her hand. Not the right one. The left. The perfect oval ending her wrist. He bowed over it as he should have done over her right hand and kept it just as long as he would have done with a queen. Which, of course, led him to another trouble. He had treated a bastard with the courtesy he should have shown the Princess herself. What was he going to do with Elia Martell?

When he turned to her, she was smiling. Her black eyes were radiant and warm, like a caress, and he immediately relaxed. "Yes," she said, beckoning him near. "I can see that we'll get along splendidly indeed."

That night, he dined with her and her – their – multitude of relatives. He felt strangely out of place in this hall of chattering and lack of etiquette. He had expected something like a court and instead, he got a wide table where everyone was talking about everything. At the lower table, Daena was chattering with a few children her age, probably making plans to join them in the pools the next day.

"We won't let her in without having her trained to swim first," Elia reassured him. "And they'll be keeping watch over her until they're sure she knows what she's doing. We've never had an accident here before."

By now, he was almost accustomed to that Dornish drawl swirling everywhere around him. A few discreet looks around confirmed that the Water Gardens didn't suffer any shortage of means or delays in trade. The silks looked quite new, as did the exotic Essosi fruit.

"I am happy to see that you have recovered so well, Cousin," he said. To his surprise, he found out that he truly meant it. Now that she had a face and kind manners – and a soft smile for Daena as well – she was suddenly more than a distant figure that just happened to be related to him.

Her smile broadened. "I am well now," she said. Following her eyes, Jason looked at the door. Ser Arthur Dayne entered the dining room and headed straight for the table, noticing too late the two extra guests.

"I am sorry," he said after bowing. "I am just coming from Sunspear and I didn't know you had guest, Princess. I'll go and…"

"No," she said and looked around the table. "Alynna, would you please move a little over?"

Her intention was clear. A chair was brought over from the unoccupied end of the table and placed so close to her own that it was indecent. She beckoned Ser Arthur to take his place and then looked at Jason and Amabel, a bright smile on her lips. "I believe you know the Sword of the Morning," she said and went on, simply, "My paramour."

Jason's wine made an attempt to choke him. In fact, Dayne didn't look this much differently, although a moment later, he took it in stride and even reached for Elia's own plate, although he gave her a quick questioning look before. She nodded.

* * *

In the soft light of the few candles, the star on Dyanna's forehead burned as bright as Nymeria's star. A thin translucent curtain in light green let the night breeze in but kept the insects out, yet the babe's soft skin was covered in bright red spots. Elia had no idea what irritated the sensitive skin but she was glad that the potions seemed to be working to relieve the little one's pain. The problem was, she smelled so nice that Elia was ready to eat her and become a flesh-eater. When Arthur entered, she was smearing the lavender-scented salve over her daughter's face and Dyanna was gurgling. When she spotted Arthur, her smile became so wide that Elia couldn't find her cheeks anymore.

"Go sit on the bed," she said mechanically. Dyanna being besotted with Arthur was nothing new. She'd even stop taking suck to smile and him – and not stop. He was too much of a distraction.

He silently obeyed.

Weeks ago, Elia had stopped thinking of how strange their situation was, that he was the man who had been around her as she swelled with this child, as if he were the father. But tonight, it was different. New. When she was done, she handed Dyanna to the wet nurse and watched them leave. Then, she rose and started undressing.

"What?" she asked as Arthur still wouldn't say a word. "What is it?"

"Tonight, you called me your paramour before people we don't know."

She rolled her eyes. "They're our cousins, Arthur. And at some point, it had to get out for the rest of the world as well."

"You never told me."

"What?" she demanded, uncomprehending, and donned her nightgown.

"Is that what I am?"

"My paramour? Of course, why are you…" she started absent-mindedly, and then fell silent, turning to look at him. "I never told you?"

"We never had any conversations of how we were going to continue," Arthur replied, pouring wine for both. "You were grieving and then recovering, and then it's been an enchanted life here, safely away from the rest of the world …" He shrugged. "I wasn't sure what your intentions were."

She bristled. "Don't you want to be my paramour?" she asked, suddenly scared that she was pressing him too hard, that she was hurrying things, that he might want to keep the relationship discreet so he could change his mind whenever…

"Of course I want it," Arthur replied, handing her the goblet. "I was just surprised. I thought you might want to preserve a certain image for the realm…"

Elia had been about to drink but instead, she left the goblet at her bedside chest and stared at it, stunned by the realization that he was just as unsure, insecure and scared as she was. The love that had bloomed between them was a precious thing, as precious as a finely shaped glass and just as brittle. Had fear kept them both from asking the question?

"A woman broken in body and mind, breathlessly waiting for her beloved husband to come to his senses and take her back which she'd accept gracefully and with a kind forgiving heart isn't the image I want to preserve to the realm," she said, poring over every word. "I won't play the Maiden and Mother. The realm will have to take me the way I am. I am not hiding away in the dark. This isn't the example I want to set for Aegon and his sisters. No."

Joy lit his face but still he hesitated. "It might be a dangerous game that you play," he warned.

Elia just laughed, suddenly feeling young and impish, as impish as the little sand demons inhabiting the pools under the light of day. "Sure. But it's one that I can win. Even when Rhaegar set me aside, he made it clear to everyone that the children were his. He made such a great show of being so hurt that he had to give them up. How would it look like if he suddenly proclaims they weren't his? He'll only make himself look even more erratic and foolish in the eyes of his lords. You were at King's Landing all the time from Aegon's conception to his birth. Everyone with half a brain knows that Rhaegar was the only dragon-looking man around me at the time."

That was all true and great but it wasn't the full extent of Arthur's concerns. "You know we Dornish aren't well-liked there," he said. "Aegon being surrounded by your immorality and mine isn't going to do him much favours with the rest of…"

"And looking at his mother hiding like a brigand will?" Elia challenged, her eyes flashing. "A future king needs morals. I won't be teaching him this if I keep lurking in the darkness and share kisses with you in the coop."

The image was such that Arthur grinned. That was what he had secretly hoped to hear.

"Doran might not like it," he felt obliged to warn her anyway.

Elia's eyes flashed anew at him – in fact, at her absent brother. "That will be very sad indeed," she stated. "But this part of my life is my game and we'll play it by my rules." Her smile became sly. "What say you?"

He closed the distance between them and sealed the new position with a kiss. "What can I say?" he murmured. "It's my duty and pleasure to serve you… in any way you desire."

 


	13. Playing Dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, you're a great help! I'm sorry about the delay. For the last few months, I've been unable to spare the time for longer chapters, so this story and Song of Darkness have been suffering as a result.

Somewhat to his own surprise, Jason decided to leave Daena at the Water Gardens. He made the decision quite easily: his daughter was still tired from the journey, she didn't truly need to go to Sunspear and she wanted to stay here. Amabel advised him to let her be and she was far better at dealing with Daena than she was, let alone far more experienced, although he wasn't sure just how permanent the effect of her efforts – and their mother's – to turn the child into a lady was. Aboard the _Silver Witch_ , Daena had been anything but.

"There's no need to worry," his sister assured him. "The septas here are good in keeping children in check."

He gave her a look of doubt. With the din filling his ears, the last thing he'd think about the situation was that the children were being kept in check.

"They are," Amabel insisted, reaching out to touch the bowl of shells in all colours of rainbow sitting atop a side table. "Else, there would have been no organization here."

Jason laughed at this, suddenly imagining Sunspear as a barrack keeping hundreds of tiny men at-arms. "You might be right," he said. "It can't get much worse, can it?"

Amabel looked away. He was jesting, of course, but she sometimes thought how different it would have been if her mother had brought them over from time to time, or even left them here for some prolonged periods of time. Why hadn't she? Her childhood had been a good one but it had been lonely compared to what she witnessed here.

"No," she said. "It can't."

For Daena, it really couldn't. She wondered how much worse it could get for her, though. For all their gaiety and casual splendour, the Water Gardens were a haunted place, a place where everyone grieved those they had played in those pools with once and that stirred her own grief back to life. She'd like to go to Sunspear where she could at least see for herself what Dorne was up to. That would be some distraction.

"Of course, there will be a great reception," Elia told her the night before they left. "My daughter must be presented at our court."

Amabel paused, looking at her. Elia didn't elaborate and Amabel shook her head. Of course the child should be presented – and she'd be presented as the King's daughter, no matter if she truly was.

"She is a Targaryen," Alynna said bluntly. "If you're wondering. Unfortunately."

"Alynna!" Elia said sharply.

"What?" Alynna asked. "Don't tell me that you never wished to be able to rub such a thing into Rhaegar's face?"

Elia sighed, acknowledging that Alynna was right. "Where is Coral?" she asked and looked around. "She must pack the children's clothes."

"I think I saw her in the wood," Amabel said and smiled. "Where I saw her violet-eyed lord go before."

She immediately realized that she shouldn't have said that. Elia gasped, Naeryn froze, and Loreza spat, "This little harlot!"

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Ashara Dayne said immediately. "Arel likes going there. They don't have to have made a…"

"Do you really believe it?" Alynna cut her in. "You know your brother better than anyone. He's never been able to go without for long…"

Her words weren't this offensive but the tone turned them into something ugly and acrimonious. Suddenly, Amabel knew that Alynna was the one who was supposed to provide the thing Arel Dayne couldn't go without… "I'm sorry! Looks like I said something I shouldn't have."

"Or rather, my lord husband is doing something that he shouldn't be doing," Alynna said coldly and it was Amabel's turn to freeze. How had she missed to get informed who was bedding whom and who was wed to whom! Why had she decided that everyone would be as open as Elia and Arthur Dayne were being about their relationship? And she had been afraid that Daena would speak out of turn!

Abruptly, Alynna rose and started pacing the chamber, looking for all the world like a lioness pacing her cage. "Looks like violet-eyed lords have a thing for child women," she said, pain and derision leaking from her voice.

Elia's head snapped back as if Alynna had hit her. "You can't compare the two situations," she said. "Rhaegar threw me out despite my doing his duty to him. Go to Arel, and he'll never look at Coral all. She's a child who's infatuated with him, that's all."

"And he's doing his best to turn her down without insulting her, I suppose?" Alynna asked, spinning around to face Elia. "I should have known, really. Shanai was…"

"Shanai didn't care whose bed he was visiting, as long as it wasn't hers," Naeryn cut in. "At least the world thought so. I can tell you that she cared very much indeed! Just not enough to offer him her own. Is it her life that you want to repeat?"

Alynna glared. "I gave him my word and I'll keep it," she said. "I just need some time."

"How much time?" Naeryn asked, cruel in her calm assessing of the situation. "You gave birth more than a year ago and you've been keeping him away ever since. Perhaps this time next year, you'll be considering becoming a true wife, just perhaps?"

As the two women kept arguing, their voices rising, Amabel realized just how unusual Naeryn was. Men being unfaithful to their lady wives was something as old as the world but women generally showed sympathy to fellow women, it was an unspoken rule. Naeryn was all for defending the cheater.

Suddenly, Alynna was crying and Naeryn wrapped her arms around her. "Don't," she said. "Nothing is lost yet. All you need is a few hours together, some interest to show him, and he'll forget about her. If you really can't receive him just yet."

"I can't," Alynna sniffed. "I'm trying but… Errol is still there, you know? Day and night. Never going away."

_Do you want him to go away, Cousin?_ Amabel wondered. She had only recently started to get free of Elbert whom she hadn't even known this well. Clinging to memories was so sweet, so enticing.

"You have to let him go," Elia said gently. "I realize that it's easy for _me_ to say so. You've had the very best and it hurts to let go. But you must. And you have no reason to worry. Arel is loyal and devoted to you."

Loyal, devoted and letting another woman stare at him like this? Amabel decided that she really couldn't understand those Dornish cousins of hers. Didn't they have any values? Her father had been loyal and devoted to her mother, people said, but he had had his other women discreetly when he had been away. If Elia truly believed what she was saying, it wasn't any wonder why she was so hurt by the King's last rejection. She probably believed that he was being loyal and devoted to her even as he crowned that Stark at Harrenhall!

"He was loyal and devoted to Shanai as well," Alynna breathed. "Yet he took up with Larra as if she were his second wife. Is he trying to repeat this?"

"At the end, Shanai realized that if she wanted to have a good life with him, she needed to be his wife in all respects," Ashara Dayne said. "And he took her back. He will take you if you show any will to change."

Alynna looked at her silently. Were they all right? Even Loreza who was always ready to drive the girl away was shaking her head at her, warning her not to argue. Still, her pain and pride couldn't let this one go.

"Why should I show any will to change?" she insisted obstinately. "I didn't do anything wrong. It isn't I who makes up to other men!"

"Looks like you have no wish to enthrall your own husband either," Elia said calmly and at this point, Amabel felt that she needed to get out of this chamber of unseemly behavior and women deprived of empathy. She decided to go to the terrace overlooking the sea. Only to find out that it was already occupied. Alric looked up at her in the moonlight and silently waved her to a chair. She sat in and stared at the sea, his presence next to her strangely unreal and haunting, as if he were just another ghost in the long line of ghosts trailing everyone's steps.

* * *

The Old Palace was vastly different from the Water Gardens. It was… old. Massive. Clearly built mainly as a defensive citadel and not a residence for comfortable living. Impressive with its splendour. Still, there were touches that showed former rulers of Dorne's will to turn it into a real home. The family wings where Jason and Amabel had been installed were brimming with light and sun, furniture that was spare and let people move freely. Objects of arts reflecting the personal preferences of every princely occupant…

"Everyone has made changes to feel comfortable," Oberyn Martell explained as he led him to their grandmother's chambers. "We still do."

Jason wondered what changes the Red Viper had made. Choosing a room to install a nest of snakes, perhaps? He wouldn't put it past him. "Is Lady Daella unwell?" he asked.

Oberyn looked at him. "Princess Daella, Cousin," he corrected. "She was King Aegon's sister, and an older one at that. Rumour has it that King Maekar regretted that his daughters were not his sons, and I can tell you that he had the right of it. Our grandmother would have been a far better ruler than Aegon. I think your own mother proved her merits as well."

"She did," Jason agreed, remembering the time after his father's death. Many had wished to use his minority for their own purposes. His mother, though, had had none of it. Perhaps all the disappointments she had been through taught her something. And then, he wondered if that was another reason they'd use. According to Dornish law, Daella would have indeed taken precedence over her younger brother. Not that it would actually force a change in the current state of affairs – in fact, it would be very unlikely if it did – but it would be another point in Prince Aegon's favour if that was what the Martells wished to chase after. Aegon was descended from Maekar Targaryen on both lines while Lyanna Stark's son only had Rhaegar's blood to count on. "So, the Princess?"

"She's sick with grief," Oberyn said simply. "She's stronger than any other woman I have known, except for my mother, maybe, but she has those days when grief just gets the better of her and she cannot summon the will to leave her chambers."

"Like your father?" Jason asked without thinking. He had been horrified to find out what the man who had been the Red Viper before this moniker had even been made was now reduced to.

Oberyn nodded, looking away. "Yes," he said. "Just like my father."

And still, when they entered the solar with blue cushions and a small fountain in one end to keep people cool and Jason saw the wide purple eyes staring at him hungrily, he thought that she was just like his mother. For the first time, he thought that he might belong here, after all.

* * *

Amabel turned out to be right. The babe that had travelled to Sunspear in her nursemaid's arms was presented to all the Dornish lords and ladies and the representatives of many Essosi cities as Dyanna Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen's true queen. By now, Amabel had realized that this was the truth but she was still surprised at how many foreigners acclaimed her as such in their official capacities. "Essos accepts her," she heard Elia sigh and realized that despite the peace of the Water Gardens, the repudiated Queen had had her doubts as to how it would go.

Arthur Dayne smiled at her. Somewhat to Amabel's relief, they had put an end to the undisguised closeness from before but they were always close to each other. Elia kept the children close as well, both clearly offended by the heavy ceremonial robes in red and black but knowing better than protest. The star on Dyanna's forehead shone scarlet in the light of thousands of candles and attracted many eyes and speculations as to just how this miracle had come to be. Once or twice, Elia wiped the sweat from her babe's forehead, showing that the mark was no deceit.

But what surprised Amabel the most was how many lords from the Seven Kingdoms had come to show their respect. Even some who had fought on the Targaryen side! They must feel really cheated, she thought and smiled because, of course, a lady could not grin. There had been no great rewards for them. It was in the best interest of the realm, of course – in the short run. Why, even Mace Tyrell had sent his steward with gifts. The new Queen had been heard to claim vehemently that Mace's daughter would never be queen, that her son would marry one of the daughters Catelyn Tully would give Lyanna's brother. Still, her heart started beating faster when she saw Jason bowing to Elia and Aegon. This simple gesture could make him an enemy of the Seven Kingdoms. _And what of it?_ she reasoned. He was this before and survived. The King could hardly afford to start new enmities with his true queen's relation over such a matter. Especially one of Jason's standing. Especially now.

Suddenly, she realized that what she was witnessing – the smiles, the music, the shared words – was, more or less, the start of a new war. The war over Rhaegar's succession. Seceding had been just the start. Whoever had hoped that it was a short-term moment of anger had been wrong. This thought excited her – and made her afraid, just a little.

She headed for the opened doors. Suddenly, she needed air. She pressed her forehead against a cold marble column and breathed deeply, watching what was going on in the feast hall. Now, Jason looked strangely unsettled, his eyes following Naeryn Sand who was chattering animatedly to an old Tyroshi, all smiles and charm. Amabel almost groaned. Did he need to become so indecent just because they were in Dorne? When the young woman glanced at him and shot him a brief smile, Amabel's revulsion became even more pronounced. She no longer wondered why Naeryn had been unable to find a husband. A Blackfyre bastard, a handicapped one, with the morals of a street cat – who would take her? It was no wonder that she defended the cheating husband. Who knew, perhaps she planned to become the next one in his list? The Seven knew that such a thing seemed common enough in Dorne!

* * *

Whatever Naeryn's plans about Arel Dayne were, Alynna seemed to have her own. On the third, closing day of the celebration she entered the feast hall in a sea of pale purple silks and glittering amethysts. They shone in her dark hair, on her arms and waistline, creating the impression that the light followed her. Amabel gasped at the sight of her cleavage. Even by the Dornish standards, it was beyond indecent! Admittedy, it also looked magnificent, or at least men thought so. It clearly made such an impression on her husband that he only stared as she headed for him, offering him her hand for a kiss and not being quick to draw it back. He said something and she replied, bestowing a brilliant smile upon him. All of a sudden, Amabel took pity on Coral Hightide, who was staring at them, trying not to cry.

"She'll get over it, you know," someone spoke next to her. "She's young. The Princess will arrange a good match for her, no doubt."

She turned to look at him. And she was lost into the sight of olive skin, black hair, and eyes that in the lights of the hall looked violet.

"Elia sent me to fetch you," he went on. "My name is Morgan Sand and I'm to be your protector from everyone around who would like to assault you with an indecent look."

Amabel realized that he had noticed her disapproval of the ladies' attires and blushed. Then, she felt angry for blushing. What did his opinion matter? Finally, she thought that she wouldn't mind if _he_ gave her an indecent look – or at least one of admiration. Even more finally, she wasn't sure why, when they approached the high table, for a moment her grandmother looked horrified.

* * *

As soon as the celebrations were over, Elia started to turn her intentions into actions. She let Arthur assist her on the saddle and often went on long rides with him, just the two of them. She saved a seat for him next to her at the table. She coordinated her gowns with his attire. She let him kiss her hand longer than propriety prescribed in everyone's sight. She didn't retire with him openly at the end of the evening feast yet but just in a few days, they were the talk of Sunspear. Soon to be the talk of all Dorne. And Essos.

And Doran wasn't doing anything about it. He just smiled benignly. Indeed, Elia had the feeling that he would gladly encourage her to keep going! That fact confused her, made her defiant, caused her to be alert, expecting his move any moment now. Would he reproach her? Send Arthur away from Sunspear? She was ready to shoulder the first and she simply wouldn't let him do the second. But time went on and he still looked almost… pleased. Elia's anxiety keep bubbling.

Finally, at one of the evening feasts, the camel's back was broken. The Norvoshi ambassador was again expressing his awe of the miracle that was Dyanna's star. And if Elia hadn't heard her brother's next words, no one in the world could have convinced her that he had said them. "Oh all of Dyanna is a miracle. No one can understand Rhaegar Targaryen's problems better than my poor sister."

Elia barely waited for the feast to end. When servants started clearing tables away to make room for the dancing floor and conversations broke into smaller parts, with no one paying particular mind to anyone else, she went behind Doran's chair and touched his hand. When he looked at her, her self-possession suddenly broke. "Can I have a word?" she asked through grinded teeth. "In your study if you please?"

Mellario gave her a look of alert and Elia smiled to show that everything was fine. Still, her goodsister rose and followed them. Perhaps Elia had shown too many teeth.

There was a single lamp burning in the study. The servants knew that Doran was likely to come over and pick a forgotten document for one last reading in his bedchamber, so they kept some light long into the night. As soon as Mellario closed the door, Elia let herself go.

"What do you think you're doing?"

His brows rose. "Tell me."

"You were practically telling him that Rhaegar isn't my children's father! Are you mad?"

The brows went back in place. "Ah, so you've heard. You'll notice that I didn't _tell_ him any such thing, though. After all, soon the world will be able to see Rhaegar's problems without my help."

She stared at him.

"Think!" Doran urged her. The face of the generous host, the benign Prince was now gone. It was the face of a snake before it bit staring right at her. Someone like their father and mother. Someone who did not suffer fools gladly. "You have read as much chronicles as I have. How people perceived Aerys? Not the monster. The first one."

"They derided him for his reluctance to bed his queen," Elia said without thinking twice. "They thought less of him as a king because they thought him less of a man."

"That's it," Doran confirmed.

She still didn't understand.

"How much wine have you had?" Doran asked suspiciously and Mellario stood before Elia protectively.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded. "Are you trying to ruin Elia's reputation by yourself?"

Disappointment flickered through his eyes just for a moment before he sighed. "Won't the two of you get over your indignation and think about it? We don't want to fight Rhaegar to force him to accept Aegon. We will if we must but I'd rather have him come to us."

Elia's hand went to her forehead. Suddenly, she wondered if she had had too much wine indeed. Because she couldn't understand what he meant. Or perhaps he had. Because his words made no sense. "He'd be furious, not coming to us!"

Doran shrugged and took a place behind his working table, resigning to the fact that it would be a long conversation indeed. He motioned the two women at the other chairs. Mechanically, they obeyed.

"Oh he'll be furious, no doubt," he said. "Especially with the rumours about you and Arthur. It'll make him look like a cuckold and a fool who simply let you out of his clutches to be with your true love."

Elia started straightening the tablecloth of the side table, just to have something to do. This was a good thing? How?

"The rumours will keep growing," Doran went on. "And I intend to keep them alive without actually saying anything that could be interpreted as a definite proof about the children's paternity. With time, people will start wondering in truth. Because, as you know, there won't be any more children coming from the Northern girl."

"But it will be because of her," Mellario said. "He can say that we've maimed her and…"

Doran shrugged, looking quite careless. "Who's going to believe him? Have any of you thought about a removal of the womb that left the woman alive before Aunt Ranna _did_ it? The maesters won't be able to explain what happened. It isn't one of the things they do."

Suddenly, Elia thought of something that she really didn't like to think about. What kind of life had her aunt led before? How many women had she practiced her skills upon until she reached this level of expertise? How many of them had been left dead or damaged for the brief spun of time left to them? She didn't really want to know, she'd rather not get too closely acquainted with the darkness in the souls of those she loved most.

"It'll sound more like a contrived excuse meant to cover something," Mellario finally said. To Elia's immediate concern, there was only disdain in her eyes.

Doran looked suddenly tired. "Yes," he said. "And with time, rumours will grow. They're very dangerous for any king but for one in his position, they might prove fatal. He'll have to either suffer them or prove them wrong. And if he chooses the second, he'll be perceived as another Aegon the Unlikely. The rumours will be taken just as me being bitter and lying about him out of spite. I can live with this. Lyanna Stark is already turning everyone against her. She won't be perceived like Rhaegar's Naerys. That will be you, the wronged queen. Sure, there is an Arthur around but what can you expect from a Dornishwoman? They're lewd by nature. You can't be blamed for seeking consolation where you can find it…" he went on so prosaically that it was suddenly the funniest thing in the world, so Elia laughed. A moment later, he joined in. Mellario stared at them as if she had a pair of mad people before her.

"The realm won't accept another Aegon," Doran said after a while. "Not so soon after Aerys. Rhaegar will have to show that he possesses a stable succession… and a pair of working balls," he finished, making himself perfectly clear, just in case she had further questions.

"He has Lyanna's son," Elia said.

Doran snorted. "Indeed. And he can stay faithful to her, why not? But what would that prove? Everyone knows that she has bewitched him, like Serenei of Lys did Aegon. Who can say that the child is his? For all I know, she might have bedded all the stablehands at Winterfell or in that blasted tower, why not? Would anyone think that beneath her? That, too, will arise with time. The son of the mistress who snatched herself a crown over the bodies of half of the realm or the son of the wedded wife who sought a little comfort after the injustice done to her? The boy that has nothing of the dragons about him or the one who's all a dragon, the brother of the star-browed princess? I don't think Rhaegar will have much of a choice, especially with the Iron Bank paralyzing the economics of his realm."

_He might not have even this great a wish_ , Elia thought. The rumours about the birth of Rhaella's little girl – thank the Seven that they were both fine! – had been accompanied by whispers about discords within the royal couple. Lyanna's clinging to the rebels was not appreciated by Rhaegar who thought that they had received enough compensations. And if he keeps dreaming about the three heads of the dragon, he'll be disappointed in her like he was with me. _But I have those three children now. She doesn't. And neither will he._

Still, it was dangerous and she told Doran so. It might convince people that her children _were_ bastards.

He shrugged. "Of course it may fail or backfire," he said. "But it can't be worse than it already is. You're already brought down. Can you really go any lower?"

Elia was about to say yes when she reconsidered. All she stood to lose was the pity and sympathy of the Seven Kingdoms who might stop see her as the wronged wife and think that she got what she deserved. What she stood to gain, on the other hand…

"Do it," she said and she didn't even feel dirty for falling this low.

 


	14. Burning Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and sorry about the unseemly delay in updating!

They reached the Eyrie the moment when the sun was going down the horizon in a splendid display of dancing fires and blue mountains turned to white, almost the same as the smallish castle waiting for him – or perhaps not? He certainly hoped he was still welcome to this second home of his but Jon's aloofness the last few times when they had met wasn't a great encouragement. And no matter how great the honour he had come to offer him, he well knew Jon's obstinacy. Jon was no Hoster Tully to jump for elevation and recognition. He had enough of those already.

"Who is there?" a voice shouted from atop the walls.

"Lord Stark," Jory Cassel yelled back as Ned grimly pondered thus unwelcome turn of events. He knew that they were aware of his identity, having received the information from the Bloody Gate.

The castle gates opened and Cromval Egen came to welcome him with all the courtesy due to a great lord and none of the warm appraisal he had once bestowed upon his lord's ward. The impulse to turn back and flee down the narrow goat way that he had come up was almost overwhelming.

"Lord Arryn has invited you to dine with him if you aren't too tired," the steward informed him as he led him out of the Crescent Chamber as soon as decency let Ned and his men leave and showed him to his chambers – the ones kept for esteemed guests. On the way, Ned saw the master-at-arms who stayed where he was, staring at him, before turning away, his dark cloak billowing angrily behind him.

In the chambers prepared for him, the attire strewn on the bed was his own – but that was about the extent of anyone admitting that they had ever met him. Even the serving maids who drew his bath didn't whisper and giggle among themselves with the ease acquired over the years in his presence. His steps echoed down the long hall leading to the High Hall with the sound of dread and guilt.

Everything about the hall was just the way he remembered it – the long floor, the people sitting around the tables, the Arryn throne. The sight of the two empty seats around the high table made Ned look away for the briefest of moments.

"Welcome to the Eyrie," Jon said heavily and Ned felt sick at seeing how old and worn out his onetime mentor had become. But despite the new gauntness and lines on his face, the strength in his eyes was as present as ever. "Do take a seat."

Ned silently did, looking over to make sure that his men had been all accommodated.

"I believe you know everyone at the table?" Jon asked.

The captain of guards, the steward and his lady wife, the Knight of the Bloody Gate… They all stared at him with disinterest or downright hostility. "Not quite," Ned said, looking at the old woman seated at Jon's left. "I don't think I have been introduced to you, my lady," he said.

In the torchlight, she inclined her head, revealing the true purple of her eyes. "Indeed you haven't. But perhaps you knew my son."

"My lady Mallister," Jon said, "I give you Lord Stark."

Blood came red to Ned's cheeks. Suddenly, he couldn't meet the woman's eye. He couldn't even say a word about the debt he owed her. How would his own men take this reminding? He owed almost all of them the same debt.

With overwhelming sadness, he realized that the change in Jon ran even deeper than he had anticipated. Angry and disappointed at him, the Jon of a year ago would have never relished in putting him in such distressing situation. But of course, he couldn't say a thing.

The evening feast seemed to go on forever. Although seated in the place of honour, at Jon's left, his conversation with his host was stilted and formal. It was evident that Jon felt much more comfortable with Lady Mallister whom he clearly had known for a long time. They were discussing hunting with him defending the recreational occupation and she insisting that it was barbaric, especially the way it was designed for women. "That was one of the most horrible things at King's Landing," she claimed. "A horde of men running to scare the small animals off so they would come in the ladies' way and they could finish them off happily with their ridiculous spears and arrows… That was nothing else but an organized butchery. Fine ladies, those."

Where had Ned heard that? He squinted at her, her silvery hair and fair complexion like nothing that he had ever seen. But it was Lyanna who came to his mind, her derision and revulsion at the fact that this hunting was considered a measure of refinement. _I'd rather be a wilding_ , she had exclaimed, shocked, after her first clash with this Southern pastime.

Jon chuckled. "I remember you made quite the impression when you claimed so aloud. Both men and women were offended."

She shrugged. "As long as my grandfather stood by me, everyone was entitled to think whatever they wanted. And he happened to think that occupation horrid. He only tolerated it because the court ladies would have a fit if they were denied it."

Now, that was something that chilled Ned to the bones. He had no idea who the woman's grandfather was but Rhaegar Targaryen had probably thought the same way when he had disappeared with Lyanna, starting the horror that had ended with Ned being reluctantly tolerated intruder in the home of his happy early youth. The resentment that he had been trying so hard to suppress for all those months bubbled up again. He disliked people who thought their lineage entitled them to disregard everyone and then laugh about it. But he seemed to be the only one who thought so. His tablemates just looked entertained.

_It won't be easy_ , he thought as he undressed and climbed in the guest bed that he had never slept in.

To his surprise, the next morning he received an invitation to break his fast with Lord Arryn in his solar. With the memory of last night still fresh in his mind, he stepped there warily and was relieved to see only Jon there. He waved him in and pointed him at the seat opposite to his own.

"I hoped I'd see Lady Mallister," Ned said as soon as he ate his first morsel. "I wanted to say… I wanted to say that I'm in her debt, I say."

He didn't really have much to lose, with Jon still not saying a word.

"There is no need," Jon said. "You already showed your gratitude. By demanding that her niece be pushed from her throne to free the spot for your sister. Yes," Jon went on, as if Ned had said something, "she is Princess Elia's aunt. Her father's half-sister. A Targaryen by mother. And she's going to have just as little patience with your empty words as she had with her royal kin when they ruined her life, not unlike the way you demanded it to be for her niece."

"And you think I did it because it was my wish for Lyanna to be queen in another woman's place?!"

"No," Jon replied. "But you did it anyway. I find it insulting to the memory of those who died. I was amazed that after that, you dared show your face here. What did you expect, that you'd still be welcome after Elbert and Robert died because of the dishonour you protected?"

"No one could have expected that Aerys would go this far," Ned tried. Not surprisingly, Jon wasn't convinced.

"Truly? The Mad King? Truly? Rhaegar couldn't have known? And what exactly did your sister think would happen, pray tell?"

Those were the questions that haunted Ned still, filling him with remorse and helpless feeling close to hatred. He was almost sure that sending him here had been Lyanna's idea – she knew just how desperately he wished for peace and stability. Rhaegar had no way of knowing.

"Listen," Ned said, leaning over the table. There was nothing false of well-thought in his words – he had left his rehearsed words behind sometime during the last sleepless night. "What happened did happen. I loved them as well, Jon, you know it. Brandon was my brother! But I had no choice, other than supporting this… this… thing after the fact. And we lost. Let us make peace. Let's heal the realm. Rhaegar Targaryen is our king, as little as he might be to our liking…"

" _Our_ liking?" Jon cut in, barking out a laugh. "Don't use this word, Lord Stark. There is no _us_ anymore. There are those of us who are horrified at having fought a war because of two unworthy people and do not wish to forget all that we lost. And then, there is you."

_You have taught me well, Jon,_ Ned thought bitterly. _That's what I'm telling myself every so often._

"We lost," he whispered. "They're all dead. Brandon, Robert, Elbert… Joffery Mallister. And no matter what we do, we can't bring them back. Let us build a better realm for the future. The King sent me here to offer you the place of his Hand once again…"

"I see," Jon said. "I am surprised that he managed to postpone the assignment of one for so long."

He sounded so composed that Ned looked at him with hope. Could the display from before have been something temporary?

"They must be really desperate," Jon said. "I've heard that a good deal of lords have attended the official presentation of Princess Dyanna at Sunspear. And the stability of the realm is deteriorating further, with the Iron Bank demanding its due. Your sister isn't helping matters by offending those who stayed at Aerys' side." He paused. "I understand. You and Rhaegar Targaryen want me to take the situation in hand. Me to settle the issues with the lords as I did when they protested against King Aegon's reforms. You want to plum yourselves on my abilities! Well, Ned Stark, I'm telling you right now that your cause is a lost one. I don't want anything from the Iron Throne. And I certainly won't help the mockery of royals sitting it. You can tell that to your so-called goodbrother. Don't bother to dress it up nicely. And never again presume that you can convince me of anything. Never again come here without invite. Which you won't receive, so I expect that's the last time I see you."

The sun was making valiant attempts to light the small solar. In the distance, the roar of Alyssa's Tears could be heard. And Eddard Stark felt as empty and hopeless as she had been.

* * *

Not for the first time, the King and Queen's opinions differed. Lyanna felt that behind the Prince of Dorne's carefully chosen words, Elia's bitter, vengeful hand showed. Rhaegar, on the contrary, was convinced that it was the start of some kind of a fallout between the two Martells. After all, why would Elia want to sow doubt about her own children's paternity? It could only do them harm. More likely, Doran was furious with her attempts to show the world that she was desired just like Lyanna and was trying to punish her, make her return to her senses. What Ser Arthur's punishment for taking part in this pretense would be remained to be seen.

Listening to his rationalizations, Lyanna couldn't believe it. Who was the woman he was talking about? Even at Harrenhall, Elia Martell had taken the slight he had dealt her with grace and dignity. "Do you truly want her to be alone and unhappy till the end of her days?" she asked which he denied vigorously.

"Of course not. But she isn't revengeful. She doesn't have it in her. It's Doran's doing… he's turning against her and she's helpless to do anything to stop him…"

"And what concern of yours is that?" Lyanna demanded. "Those are their own problems and relationships."

"No, when he slings mud on my children, they damn well aren't!"

Here, Lyanna fell silent, refusing to go to down the well-trodden path of this argument. She so wished that Rhaegar would decide which his family was! She would go mad with his assurances that he loved her and Jon followed by yet another gift sent to Dorne, to be returned without an answer. Couldn't he see that this was their chance to settle the matter once and forever? Whoever had made the mistake, Elia and Doran, they could use it. They should use it! Instead, Rhaegar was worried that Elia and the children were mistreated in Dorne. A great mistreatment, an official celebration was. A great one indeed! Whatever Elia Martell was doing, Lyanna believed that the woman could look after herself. And well… she wished it were so. Including the Ser Arthur part. Perhaps then Rhaegar would stop thinking that he still owed Elia the protection due to a wife when he had moved mountains to evict her as one! Sometimes, Lyanna had the feeling that she lived with Elia Martell's husband, something that she hadn't felt even when she had been doing just that!

"So you want to have mud slung on our child, instead?" she asked. "Do you realize that as long as lords and rich merchants send gifts and regards to Elia, there will always be those who think Aegon should be your heir? There was almost no one of note at _Jon's_ presentation. The divide hasn't even started to heal!"

"For which we can thank you and your brother," Rhaegar reminded her. "I still can't believe you said such a thing to Tyrell's face. That was a deed worthy of my father!"

Lyanna blushed. She was not proud of the way her impulsiveness had gotten the better of her but she refused to be the only guilty party. Not when Rhaegar kept sending such contradicting signals. And if he said something more about Ned, she wouldn't keep silent. It wasn't Ned's fault that they had wanted of him to do the impossible… _If I were Jon Arryn, I would have spat in his face, too_ , she thought, sick at the thought of where she had placed herself in her pursuit of love. She loved Rhaegar but she loved honour as well. She loved her family… and now Rhaegar was all she had left. He and Jon. And for this, she would use any mistake Elia Martell would make. With Rhaegar's help or without! After all, not much more could be added to the weight of guilt that she managed to keep at bay until she suddenly couldn't and went overwhelmed.

 


	15. Crypts and Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!

Days went on with alacrity that was almost startling. Rising late in the morning, spending a few hours riding and walking down the streets of the shadow city of Sunspear, having a quick meal in some inn hoping that it wouldn't be spicy enough to burn his throat… After noon, all signs of life faded for some time as heat took reign. Then, the Old Palace would take to fierce shine filling with all those who hadn't managed to be received by the Prince of Dorne in the morning as the servants prepared for the evening feast – each one livelier and more splendid than the one before. That was, when there weren't any festivities. Which seemed to take place every other day. The official presentation of Princess Dyanna, as she was officially called by everyone at Prince Doran's court and every single one of the foreign guests, would be followed by the even greater celebrations on Princess Arianne's nameday and while the tourney was to be expected, Jason Mallister remained horrified when Amabel cheerfully related to him the more interesting aspects of the competitions.

"A water round?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Are you jesting?"

His sister giggled. "Not at all. Elia showed me the plans in person. Clearly, this is a common game here in Dorne. You should go by boat rowed by the others in your team and try to strike a shield tied to the top of a stake stuck into the sea. Without falling into the boat or the sea, preferably."

He glared at her. "I am not falling anywhere because I won't take part in this… this… mummer entertainment. Besides, I don't _have_ a team."

Nor did he intend to try and find one. Gathering men just so he could topple over in a damned boat amidst the sea? What kind of fun was that? It was utter… debasement.

"What a pity," Oberyn drawled. "I was already seeing you on my team. We could fall after each other. I usually manage to score but the tipping over part… well, that's something that I cannot get rid of. I guess Arthur will be on another team and I bet he'll fall over even without scoring… the spear isn't his strong suit."

Jason coughed out the Arbor gold from both his mouth and nose. His cousin's nonchalant dismissal clashed with everything that he had heard about the Sword of the Morning. "How so? At Harrenhall…"

Oberyn's face went dark. "I'd rather that you not mention this disgrace," he spat and went on as cheerfully as before. "Rhaegar Targaryen had a good day, I'll give him that. But if it was me facing Arthur, he'd never have made it to twelve lances. At ten, at most, he would have been down. If it was Arel, Arthur would have survived to six. Maybe. You see, he's very good with the spear. Just not as good as he's with the sword. It's always fascinating to watch him and his brother sparring. Whenever Arel manages to come out the winner with a sword, it's always a match to behold. But the reverse is also true. That's why Arthur loves going with his spear against us. With a sword, he has no true rivals and that isn't always easy. "

Jason couldn't spare much compassion for the tragedy of the man who was so much better than everyone else but he found the mock tourney part more interesting now.

"So he takes part because he expects to lose?" he asked.

"No," Oberyn corrected. "He takes part to _fight_ to win."

Suddenly, he laughed. "By the gods, cousin, it's just some good-natured fun! No one takes it seriously, unless they can't swim. Ladies here adore it. Naeryn often says that if she had to master one weapon, that would be the spear for the water rounds."

That got Jason's attention. So Naeryn liked it? Hmm, perhaps a cold bath wasn't such a terrible thing, after all. He wouldn't be the only one to miss and topple over.

"I've been hearing about a Tyroshi man with purple hair who took part despite being unable to swim," Amabel provided and Jason was glad that she had resumed her interest in gossiping. That was what she had been doing with the Tully girls for years.

Oberyn laughed. "Ah, this one. You see, he was trying to impress Loreza and he'd been at odds with our cousin Gillerd for this very reason. So he hears that Loreza loves watching the water rounds and gets himself into a boat. He misses the hit and slips out of the boat and then our boat comes and I hit the mark and fall into the boat hitting my bloody head, so I see the Sword of the Morning, the Ice Dragon and the rest of them all galloping past me… and as I lie there, Gillerd yells, "He can't swim, he's going to drown," whereupon he shots past me, kicking me in the head again, and dives in to grab the fool and drag him onboard. Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with him, he had just swallowed some water. The crowd cheered for him as loudly as it did for Gillerd who, at our next turn, _didn't_ miss the mark and didn't even fall. He became the real hero of the tourney – Gillerd wasn't in the least bit pleased, I'm telling you! I think the only reason he didn't drown him personally was that he finally made things clear with Loreza and she agreed to wed him. The purple-haired one didn't get an invitation for the event, though."

His colourful storytelling made both Mallisters laugh out loud. Still, Jason could understand the appeal to applaud bravery, even if unchecked. "And did you win?"

Oberyn made a face. "No, unfortunately. There was another team that got more points because none of them fell. In fact, I don't remember Elvar ever falling down. In two years, he'll be on top of it again."

To Jason, that sounded like a very optimistic prognosis. He asked, "What's the matter with him anyway? Can he see with his damaged eye? I gather that his wounds are very old ones?"

And Oberyn changed before their eyes. His face became cold and withdrawn. "Unhealthy curiosity should not be indulged," he said, his viper eyes flashing. "Elvar saved lives when he got those, that's all you should know."

Jason didn't believe him for a moment. It was clear that the matter was a touchy one. There was either something very shameful about the circumstances of Elvar's disfigurement… or Oberyn was somehow responsible for the way his bastard brother looked now. But before he could say something, a thunder grasped the earth, the solar shook and they jumped.

"What in the seven hells was this?" Oberyn asked and without waiting for answer, rushed to find out. Jason and Amabel followed.

In the hallway leading to the main court, Elia raised pale face to them. "Something went in ruins," she said. "Something in the crypt."

"Was that all?" Oberyn asked, his relief audible as Jason said, "Well, it isn't as if the dead can die _again_."

Oberyn laughed and gave him a look of approval. "You go, cousin. That's what I was about to say."

The dubious honour of being like Oberyn Martell didn't look too honourable but by the gods, it felt nice! Jason grinned in turn and then they both stopped when they saw Doran's expression. He was striding towards them followed by a few scared servants.

"What?" Oberyn asked immediately and Elia who was holding Aegon grasped him so tight that he cried out and tried to escape. "Who?"

"Father went down in the crypt… just a few moments ago…"

Elia gasped.

"I knew he spent too much time down there," Oberyn said and uttered an oath that would have made Elia glare at him at any other time. But now, he just grabbed her by the arm and dragged her behind Doran who, of course, wasn't waiting for them. When had he ever? When it had been important, that was it.

The crypts of the Old Palace could be reached by an old staircase that could _also_ give up any moment now from its very age and the dampness that had permeated the very heart of the stones. It lead to a landing resembling a bizarre shrine to the Seven, with seven small niches and statues smaller than Aegon. And behind it, the terrible black hole with the rubble still steaming white – since when could rubble _steam_ , anyway? Just this steam, this cloud of pearly smoke. Nothing else.

"Father?" Doran shouted in the darkness.

"Father!" Elia screamed and scared Aegon so much that he clung to her. "Father! By the gods, are you down there? How are you?"

The question was not unfounded since it was hardly likely that the stone ornaments in the old crypt built in two levels had stayed undisturbed when they had felt the collision so high above.

"The damned stairs crumbled less than a foot from where I was," Alric called back. "It wasn't the best moment of my life but I think all my parts are where they should be."

"Then why are you talking as if you're drunk?" Oberyn asked suspiciously. "I know you aren't."

"Oberyn, watch your mouth before you find out just how much strength your father still has left!" Alric snapped and paused. "Do we need to make such a mummer show out of a fallen staircase? We only need to make sure that a ladder can be secured down here… which it can't right now. I can happily stay here while the three of you put yourselves to some use and take care to have this rubble cleared away."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Doran murmured. "Come on," he told the others. "Let's go."

"Oh and Doran?" Alric went on. "In case someone starts worrying over Loreza – she's well. She's with me."

Is she, or did the two of you just happen to find yourselves in the same place, Jason wondered.

Elia only groaned. She hadn't heard her sister talk to their father ever since she had come back home. Those two forced together for the gods only knew how long?

"Let's go," she said curtly. "It'll take time to clear all that away."

Hours later, Oberyn was the first one to climb down the ladder and enter the vast crypt with a torch in his hand. The ones his father and Loreza had carried had long died out, of course, or at least they had extinguished them, as much out of care for their air down there as the concern with saving some light for later. He made a soft yet echoing step in the vast stone chamber and then stopped dead in his tracks. Arthur who was coming next almost walked straight into him and peered forward to see what Oberyn was staring at.

In the ray of the torch, amidst the echoing darkness and the white tombs, Alric had gone to sleep as if he had no care in the world, leaning his head against Arianne's tomb. In this chamber of old age and death, and black shadows, for first time in years he looked in peace, his face smooth and youthful. For this brief moment, he was the man they both remembered from their childhood. Loreza was seated next to him. And also sleeping. Snuggled up under his arm, she looked as if she had never warred with him at all. A few steps away, a river of pale silver hair showed Oberyn's aunt Aelinor's presence. No one had realized that she had been missing – they had just assumed it was one of those days when she wandered the halls of the palace and the streets of Sunspear, oblivious to all but the horrors surging back to life in her mind.

Their approach didn't wake Alric up and for a moment, the young man felt a wave of horror as sharp as a blade when he saw the blood that streaked his father's skull and the neck of his clothes but when Oberyn reached over to shake him, Alric's eyes snapped open. "Ah," he said casually. "Looks like the ladder has arrived. You can help Loreza up and free me to rise as well. I guess you won't like it if I stay here with your mother?"

"Not at all," Oberyn confirmed, his relief overwhelming and perhaps too early. It wasn't the first time his father returned to his no-nonsense attitude and made them hope, only to collapse back into the black hole that had claimed him. Oberyn gave Loreza a wary look and held out a hand. While she had never blamed him for her misfortune as she did Doran, as she did their father, the invisible wall between her and everyone else included him as well.

She looked back with equal defiance and uncertainty. And then she took his hand. More confident now, Oberyn reached down to help her up after the long hours she had spent seated. By the gods, how frail she was! He could actually feel her bones under the skin, imagining that they would break it and cut to him.

Loreza leaned heavily against him but when Arthur leaned down to help Alric, he shook his head and pushed himself up. He looked at Loreza and Oberyn and a faint smile touched his lips. "When did you last eat?" he asked sternly.

Since Elia had put a stop to Loreza's drinking, she had started eating even less. They needed to constantly mend her robes but even so, she was lost in each new one in about a week.

"I'll eat when I rise," Loreza promised and yawned. "I am so sleepy right now."

"Go to sleep," Alric invited. "When we climb the stairs, I mean. I'll carry you to your chamber."

Something in his eyes told Oberyn not to object. Indeed, his sister was so gaunt that even Alric could likely carry her with no trouble at all.

"Let's get out," Oberyn said. To his relief, even his aunt seemed to be in lucid mind and she accepted his assistance with the ladder with no hesitation at all.

Loreza was the first one to appear from the underground chambers, greeted with sighs of relief and cries of joy. Elia immediately inspected her for any injuries, happy to find none. With Alric, it wasn't quite so but the fact that he was moving, his speech and mind unaltered despite the head wound was encouraging. As soon as they were done examining him, Loreza grasped his hand, surprising everyone around. This time, she didn't even avoid Doran's eye.

"Good," he said, his relief visible despite his even voice. Elia had been a little surprised that he hadn't gone down there but lately, his motions had been quite strange in her eyes. Perhaps he needed to see a maester. "Go to sleep now and when you're awake, I'll tell you what you'll be doing in the next few weeks. You've got a task ahead of you."

A few of the people crowded in there looked shocked but Elia didn't even try to hide her grin. Even Loreza looked strangely pleased.

"Is he really going to make her work?" Amabel asked, incredulous. "Now?"

Before Elia could answer, Aelinor appeared from the hole and Amabel's face changed. Jason was better at hiding his shock but not this good. They had never seen a woman who looked so ugly and beautiful at the same time. Elia was long used to the sight that her aunt's face – in fact, her entire body – was. Angry red lines crossed the white skin of her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, overlapping each other at some places. A perfectly straight one went around her neck, as if the blade had stopped right before decapitating her. A scarlet-black one nearly touched the corner of her eye, making the purple stand out even more. A few long ones ran down her arms. It was a miracle that Maelys Blackfyre hadn't cut a single muscle. The silver hair obscured her from view like a fine veil but even in the faint light of the torches, it was not enough.

Daena wailed and hid her face in Amabel's gown. But Aelinor looked around for Naeryn and smiled at her. She was in full possession of her mind, leaning on Arthur's arm, looking every bit a queen as much as Rhaella did – and in this brief moment, Elia was happy. So happy that she actually stepped closer and when her aunt grinned at her, suddenly younger and mischievous, feeling what Elia was about to do, she didn't disappoint. Aelinor stepped aside and Elia stopped in front of Arthur who reached out and spun her around just like this, with Rhaenys in her arms because of course, there had been no stopping Rhaenys from following her. In front of everyone.

Elia was happy.

* * *

Ten days later, Loreza looked at Oberyn with wide eyes. "It's like home," she said, taking in the groves, the singing fountains, the marble arcades designed as much for delight and plain functional retreat from the glare of the sun. "Almost like home," she corrected. Those groves were wider and the fountains rang a different, faster tune. The structure of the castle was also different from both the Old Palace and the Water Gardens in its gleaming, sharp slenderness. But the general impression was the same. It was a castle that was lived in, not only ruled and showed to impress. Of course, making impression was a big part of the allure but everything was so graceful that if didn't look showy at all. At their left, fields of golden roses kept her eye the longest but it was the fruits in the orchards far away that really got her interested and she squinted at them. Melons?

Oberyn smirked. "What, did you expect to find the sorriest hole in the Seven Kingdoms inhabited by evil spectres?" he asked and then corrected himself. "The Six Kingdoms."

Loreza shook her head but smiled anyway. The animosity between Dorne and the Reach could not be overstated, so yes, despite all the evidence to the contrary, she had expected to see kind of darkness. Once again, she looked at the orchards.

"Melons?" Oberyn asked. "Is that what you're staring at?"

He sounded incredibly pleased. "Tomorrow, I'll buy you a dozen melons," he said happily.

"And I'll eat all of them," Loreza promised easily. "I promise," she added.

It turned out that they would have been better served if they had eaten those melons right away. Because, before they ate anything or washed after the long and hard ride from Sunspear, they got summoned to Lady Olenna's solar – and it looked like she didn't want them there just to say welcome.

"It must have been a hard journey," she said, wrinkling her nose in a most expressive way.

"We and our fleas are happy to be here, my lady," Oberyn said and she glared at him but couldn't quite suppress her instinctual disgust.

"Do the not teach you manners in Dorne?" she snapped.

"If you look at him, you'd say no, my lady," Loreza put in smoothly. "But they do teach us to use baths. I suppose this isn't the case here since we didn't get offered one before we were brought over to you."

The derision in Lady Olenna's eyes turned to pensiveness. They looked at each other, the small aging woman with more than a few missing teeth that made understanding her speech a somewhat labored experience and the tall golden-haired visitor who nonetheless invoked as much horror as admiration, for she still bore the traces of those two terrible years. She was all bones and purple shades, and pallor, and frailness. And they immediately recognized each other's worth.

"I never thought I'd see a woman smaller than my lady mother," Oberyn said just because he wanted to and Olenna Tyrell narrowed her eyes at him again.

"Or less chaste than your lady mother?" she asked. The rumours about the late Princess of Dorne had long brought delight and derision in her heart. "Who is she, anyway? Your last whore? She won't be put at the dais, I am warning you."

"Oh I think I will," Loreza said softly. "Unless you want to offend the Prince of Dorne who personally sent me here, insisting that I be treated as he himself would have been. Oh, and I must let you know that no contract that Prince Oberyn might make with you will be considered valid unless we both approve it. But I won't debase your table with the filth of my presence if that's your wish." She shrugged. "I can talk to Lord Tyrell without inflicting myself on you," she offered and smiled at the rage in the old woman's eyes.

"And make him give the Reach over to you if you do as much as shed a tear?" Olenna scoffed. "That's just what my fool of a son would do. He fancies himself a gallant knight." She paused. "Whose whore are you then?" she asked bluntly.

"My name is Loreza Sand. I guess you can say I am of a whore," the young woman offered. "And Lord Alric," she finished and Olenna almost spat on her own Myrish carpet, enraged by Doran Martell's insolence to send such a woman here.

"And what does he want of us?" Olenna demanded and angrily waved at them to sit down. None of them moved. "My son isn't telling me but I gather it has something to do with the slight the Northern woman dealt us? If so, I'm afraid you've traveled all those miles for naught. An insult, no matter how great, isn't a reason to wed the heir of our House to a bastard."

This time, she managed to get under Oberyn's skin. He made an angry step towards her. "Who are you calling a bastard?" he asked, barely keeping his teeth from grinding.

"Your niece is a bastard," the old lady said without missing a heartbeat.

"She isn't! She is…" But he couldn't figure out how to go on. Rhaenys was a bastard now. Her father had done this to her. Her bloody father, damn him!

"We'll never get to agreement about this, though," Loreza put in calmly. Now, when Lady Olenna could not possibly think that she was obeying her order, she took a seat – the very same one the old Tyrell had pointed her at. "But it doesn't matter. It's another match that my brother has in his mind. I do believe your sons are of age with the heiress of Dorne?"

In the sudden gleam of interest in those shrewd eyes, she could already say that Olenna Tyrell was no longer this outraged at the thought of having her at her own table.

 


	16. Shadows Looming Large

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and apologies for the long delay!

Elia sat with her feet tucked under her – a favourite pose that she had almost forgotten in the last years, being either with child or in bed recovering after having one. She had drawn a chair near, using it as a table for the documents she was working on and she was pleased that the back was high enough to hide her from view, so Rhaenys would only remember that she was there from time to time and try to get her attention.

"Your lady mother is busy, Princess," the Septa said every so often and Rhaenys would sulk but abandon the road from her toys to her mother and turn back to Coral who looked as enthused to play with her as Rhaenys was to play with her toys. A little amused, Elia thought that perhaps it wouldn't take long for the girl to get over her heartbreak when Arel had finally made Alynna his true wife if she could laugh like this and be as silly as a girl of three.

A shadow fell over the documents and Elia only looked up because it was too big to be her daughter's.

"How is it going?" Mellario asked as Loreza lowered herself on the sofa next to Elia. Elia hadn't even known that she and Oberyn had returned. They must have only arrived in an hour or so.

"It's hard," Elia said. "There are only as many chambers in the Old Palace and I'm still trying to magically number them out."

Loreza laughed and reached for the documents before giving Elia a look of surprise. "How do you even find your way in all the scrawls you've done one atop of another?"

Elia blushed a little. She was quite chaotic in her work but what did it matter? She only needed to be efficient.

"Don't worry," her sister said. "We'll work it out."

She looked at Mellario. "Do Braavosi have any particular prohibitions as to their lodgings?" she asked. "Like, facing west would bring about bad luck or something?"

Mellario shook her head. "Not that I know of."

Loreza moved a little over, beckoning her. "Come to us," she said easily. ""Or would you prefer if you take care of this alone?"

"There is no need, is there?" There was bitterness in Mellario's voice that she did not even try to hide. "With sisters like you, Doran doesn't need a wife like me."

Elia gasped at the unfairness of it. But Mellario only turned and left, saying nothing more. Loreza shook her head and returned to reading Elia's scribbles.

"Do you think we're pushing her aside?" Elia finally asked.

Loreza shook her head. "Your mother gave her enough time and tutors to learn. She never took it. It's Doran's fault, actually. Now, he's changed his mind but she hasn't changed hers. I was ready to help her. She never wanted to try."

Elia knew her sister was right. At the time, Doran had told their mother in no uncertain terms that she was not to harass his new wife with such chores. He had seemed certain that one day, Mellario would learn. Miraculously, perhaps. Suddenly, she got a better idea of why he was so certain that Rhaegar's happiness with Lyanna Stark would not last…

Her heart aching for both him and Mellario, she once again directed her attention to the documents. "If you can find out where we could put Baelor Hightower…" she said and Loreza shot her a look of surprise.

"I didn't think he was coming."

"He wasn't."

Lord Hightower's heir had politely declined their invitation to attend the celebrations in little Arianne's honour, so Elia had been taken aback when he had abruptly asked if he could change his mind, after all. Of course, she had said he was welcome. That was one of the reasons she was poring over lodging because there was no way he'd arrive without a proper retinue putting the one Mace Tyrell usually traveled with to shame.

"I suppose we'll have to widen the Reach part of the music a bit to honour him," Loreza said.

"Indeed," Elia agreed.

* * *

Over the few months of Elia's return, the sweet sculptures had become a must at all receptions she organized. Guests arrived waiting for them and eager to find out what form they'd see. Sometimes, she ordered the delicious mix of different textures and shapes without a grand occasion but when there was one, they were a must. Two days ago, she had been about to threaten Oberyn that she'll order a sugar-almond-walnut-honey-dough copy of him in his naked form if he didn't behave. Only Elvar's dry comment that their brother would most likely enthuse over that had put her off the idea. Instead, she had ordered an elephant – Arianne had insisted for jewels to adorn her and since the celebrations were for her, the master of the sweets had been forced to use all his reserves of imagination to create a garland of rubies and emeralds, a saddle of diamonds which looked particularly ridiculous but Arianne loved it, and a string of sapphires for the trunk. A goblet of wine later, the poor animal did not look anywhere this absurd and Elia felt a little proud of herself.

"Do you think she snorts sapphires?" Arthur asked and she laughed.

"By the Seven, Arthur! Don't make me laugh when I'm drinking wine!"

"Well, does she?"

Elia inspected the beast closer, trying to estimate if the gems would fall, should she sneeze. Arthur grinned at her seriousness. He quite liked her when she was into her cups.

"So, Princess," Baelor Hightower said seriously, "won't you go now and defend your faithful beast from all those ladies who only want to attack her?"

Elia didn't need to look twice in order to know that the surviving parts of the elephant would soon find their way to plates and even cloths prepared in advance. Many of the women in attendance would want to bring the trunk or at least a leg or part of the grass to their children who waited for them in their chambers. Elia herself had promised Rhaenys an anklet.

"Aren't you surprised, good Ser, that ladies can be as fierce combatants as lords?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"In Dorne? Not at all."

Loreza who had been listening to a boring Pentosi magister with an expression of utmost delight now gave Baelor a look of stunned wonder. "You mean you've never been to High Garden?"

He laughed. "Ah, so you've met Lady Olenna? She's a different rank, my lady. I mean no offense but she's a class of her own."

"I am not offended, Ser," Loreza assured him sweetly and, Elia suspected, honestly. The old woman had shaken Loreza's barely returned confidence and versatility in negotiations quite a bit.

Elia gave an ear to her sister's conversation and laughed. The Pentosi man was just explaining to her sister that unless a woman was golden of hair, or almost golden, he considered her no woman at all but a mistake the Seven made. At his left, Lady Allyrion, once famed for her long black curls, shook her head but when their eyes met, Elia could have sworn that the old woman actually winked at her.

"I suppose I should have feel all insulted," Elia told Baelor who had followed the whole exchange. "But how could I? His flatteries are wine-inspired and my sister is truly lovely."

"I prefer dark-haired ladies, myself," Baelor answered gallantly, not letting his opinion on the Sand being allowed to sit at the high table show. "Her husband must love her very much," he said and Elia's smile faded.

"He did," she said, not bothering to explain the situation to this stranger. "Why did you come?" she asked in a low voice. "For real."

She didn't really expect that he'd tell her and he didn't. He only smiled. "To take a bath in the narrow sea, of course," he said. "And perhaps to steal an elephant's trunk for my son," he added. "I didn't know I'd have to wrestle such a flock of formidable rivals," he added. By now, there wasn't much of the elephant left. In fact, Elia had taken Rhaenys' piece immediately, out of experience with that. Arianne had insisted on getting the trunk that she, clearly, struggled to finish off.

She patted his hand in mock sympathy for his fear, and a stinging in the back of her head made her look at her other side. Arthur was watching her with narrowed eyes. Too late, she realized that for a very long time he hadn't spoken at all.

In Sunspear, they didn't enjoy the freedom of the enchanted life in the Water Gardens. They couldn't leave together. But Elia still waited for him to come to her as he had most nights. Just when she started to think that he'd prefer the narrow room he formally shared with Elvar, now that his brother had finally moved in with Alynna, he entered so silently that she only realized his presence when she saw his shadow on the floor before her and spun back, heart racing. "Arthur!" she exclaimed. "You scared me!"

"I'm sorry," he said. "Were you thinking some happy thoughts?"

His voice was so strange that Elia gave him a startled look and backed a little. "What's going on?" she asked. "Has something happened?"

"Baelor Hightower happened," he said flatly and Elia burst out laughing which only angered him more.

"Wait, wait," she said, trying to regain control. "You want to tell me that you have forgotten what being in Dorne was like? Was I ever any different?"

"You used to be," he said and now, her laughter stopped. He stood so near that should she look up, his breath would caress her face. But she didn't. Only now did she realize that this was the first celebration that they attended since Dyanna's presentation at court. But surely he recognized that they couldn't demonstrate their closeness as openly as he seemed to desire? She had placed him next to her at the table. She had danced with him more than once, giving a good material for talks. She had been favouring him clearly enough for everyone to see. What more did he want? To hear her declare him her paramour before the world as she had before their cousins in the safety of Sunspear?

"At the time, I was a woman with child whose husband had forsaken her," she said patiently. "And before, I was Rhaegar's wife. I am returning to Elia of Dorne now."

"I am not sure I like Elia of Dorne this much," he shot back, wine making him all too candid. "Not when she's all smiles and fluttering eyelashes for the damned man from the Reach."

"I am not all bed for him, though, and that should be enough," Elia said, drawing back. She was tired, the last few days had been all full of tasks taking much of her time and today, she had been forced to intervene with a Lysene magister who seemed to think that the servants in the Prince of Dorne's castle were slaves to be beaten at will. His will. She had managed the situation so masterfully that he had attended the feast putting on a most friendly mask. So what if wine had gotten to her head and made her more cheerful than usual? She had expected congratulations, not jealous accusations. Irritation made her ask, "What is all this about? Is it because you can't claim me openly, branding me in a way you wouldn't brand your steed? You used to be more discreet, too!"

"Know my place, you mean?" he sneered. "I don't remember making a fool of myself at King's Landing with every maiden who came my way, you know."

"No, but you were an object of admiration there," she retaliated. "A Kingsguard. Here, you're still the Sword of the Morning but you aren't different than any other second son and I won't make you different by claiming aloud that we're all but wed. Is that it? Have I hurt your pride? Are you perhaps longing a little that you had stayed at Rhaegar's side, bathed in glory and acknowledgment again?"

As he paled, she realized that she had struck a nerve. All that she had said, the base desires she feared that he still had were rising to the surface, along with the deprivations their relationships demanded of him: he could never take a wife, father a child of his own. Not as he was with her. But she felt anger as well. Did he want of her to all but yell that her children _were_ the bastards Rhaegar claimed them to be? Was that what he wanted?

"What I am longing for," he finally said, making a step towards her, "is to know that you won't go down your lady mother's way."

Elia gasped. Rhaegar had never raised the issue with her but Rhaegar had never desired her so he had never thought that someone else might. She had heard the whispers behind her back. But she had never expected a blow so low from Arthur, of all men.

"Perhaps we need to spend the night apart, at least until the celebrations are over," he said, immediately regretting his words – Elia could see it. If she just held out a hand, he'd stay and do his best to reconcile with her. But she was tired and upset, and wondering if he indeed regretted having left Rhaegar's side, so she rejected the truce and clung to the form of his words instead.

"That was what I was about to ask you," she said, lying to his face.

Just a moment later, she was alone.

* * *

The study of the Prince of Dorne was a vast chamber with many shelves and cabinets, the books and parchments in there sorted meticulously. The writing table only held a sheaf of papers, an inkwell with blue ink, another one with red, and two books that he seemed to have consulted at the same time. The furniture glowed, recently polished with wax. The wine in the carafe was the best Arbor gold, the glass goblets as pale a green as the shallows of the sea. The floor was somewhat of surprise. Unlike all the official halls and apartments meant for guests, it did not sprout a Myrish rug but rushes, albeit new and strewn with fresh herbs. The only thing revealing any hint of personality was the wooden toy the guest from the Reach noticed at the last possible moment, before he could sit straight on it.

"My daughter is looking for this bear all over the castle, most likely," Prince Doran said. "She seems to have misplaced it during her last visit."

Baelor Hightower smiled. "Children tend to do this," he agreed.

Elia remembered the times when she had snucked here when she had been Arianne's age. As usual when she came to this study, she longed for her mother, almost expected to see her there… and it hurt to see Doran in their mother's chair. Arthur's ugly words came to her mind and she looked down, lest her feelings show. How could have Arthur said such ugly things to her? How could she have said such ugly things to Arthur? Uninvited, vague memories of coldness between her parents came. Did they originate from the time when Arianne had inadvertently carved a rift between herself and Alric because of her young lover?

"I prefer water for my most important conversations," Doran said as Elia went over to a side table to pour the wine. "But I am peculiar in this respect. Elia and my father will join you."

"I'd rather stick to water as well," Baelor said and laughed a little. "Although I imagine I'll have quite a lot of it tomorrow morning."

"Ah," Doran said. "The water tourney. You've never took part in one?"

"Never. I'll probably fall right in the water," the Hightower knight said cheerfully and Elia knew that he had come by his reputation as a trustworthy and well-liked man fair and square.

Elia returned to the table with a tray holding four glasses and a carafe of water. Alric raised an eyebrow at her having chosen for him but didn't comment. They all waited to hear what Baelor Hightower would tell them. Why had he asked that Alric attend that meeting? They had been on tenterhook throughout the celebrations, waiting for the moment he'd break down. So far, he hadn't but neither Elia or Doran thought he was capable of taking part in any discussion about politics. Not yet.

It had to be about politics, wasn't it? Despite everything, Elia hoped that Baelor would hint of a match. Why not? Arianne would soon be officially betrothed to Garlan Tyrell. The Hightowers had taken brides from Essos often enough and the riches of Oldtown made them almost independent from the Tyrells' favour, let alone the Iron Throne. They were known for being jealous over their prestige and while Rhaenys had been demoted, something that Elia would never forgive Rhaegar and his grasping new queen for, she was hardly a nonentity. Everyone knew that she was royal. Baelor Hightower, with his love for justice, had to know it better than anyone.

But it was something else that he started talking about. "There has been something strange going on in the Citadel," he said.

_There has been something strange going on in the Citadel ever since the maesters could not help me with my babes,_ Elia thought. _If it wasn't for the midwives, I would have died because the maesters' potions only made my morning sickness and the constant chill worse._

"How so?" Doran asked.

"The ravens coming in and from the Citadel have increased in numbers. Greatly. I know that the process of choosing a maester for the castles needing them has been greatly changed. It's a closed one now. Some choices made by the maesters responsible for such decisions were… questionable."

Doran didn't look concerned. Not yet. "How do you know this?"

"I have my ways," Baelor said. "The maesters might be wise and powerful in their Citadel but they have sometimes forgotten that Oldtown is a Hightower city."

_Your city_ , Elia thought. Of course, he'd never say so. Formally, Oldtown belonged to his father but Lord Leyton had lost interest in actually ruling it. Still, he had recognized that and he had let Baelor do the ruling. For a moment, she wondered what would have happened if her mother hadn't meant her for Jaime Lannister at the time. Could the heartache and shame that she had gone through have been avoided? Could she have been the Lady of Oldtown in all but name, a mother to children who would not have needed to rely on their uncle to provide for them? Was that what Arthur had been thinking last night? Baelor had hardly been the first man she smiled at since she and Arthur got together. Did Arthur think she longed for steadiness and security that she could not get from him?

"So you've been keeping an eye on the maesters?" Doran asked, a flash of interest in his eyes.

Baelor shrugged. In his green tunic, with his brown hair freshly washed and his eyes wide and earnest, he looked like the very concept of knighthood personified. "I do try to keep myself aware of what we unleash upon Westeros," he said. "The Grand Maester is beyond my reach, but I've come to the conclusion that this is a case when we don't see the forest for the trees." He looked at Elia. "I was very surprised that the maesters who left to attend you in your blessed state could help you so little, my lady," he said.

Alric spat an oath. "You mean that they…?" he started.

"I am not sure what I mean," Baelor said. "I only know that each had at least three links of silver, yet the Princess had an extremely hard time, I am told. The first time, it could have been a coincidence. Or even the second. But well, she lived, so…" He shrugged. "I am not sure."

"I had my midwives," Elia said. "And I followed their advice more often than the maesters'."

"How fortunate," Baelor said pointedly.

"Indeed." Even in her own ears, Elia sounded too calm for a woman who had just learned that the people attending her might have tried to harm her. "And they did tell my husband that I couldn't have more children after Aegon. Not so fortunate, this time."

"What?" Baelor said. "They told him that _immediately_?"

"Yes."

Now, when she was so distanced by the events of the time, she could see that it had been a very strange thing to do. Usually, maesters and healers avoiding saying the bad news till the very end and even then, they tried to prolong, scared that they'd be deemed incompetent. But the maesters – they had informed Rhaegar that her womb would not quicken again as she had lain in her bed, fever grasping her and blood pouring out. There had been no need for them to do this, not until they were sure that she'd live. Could they have been in such a hurry _because_ they expected that she'd live? But why?

"That's very interesting," Baelor said. "And it's getting even more intriguing now. The only ones that leave for castles and keeps are men of varied talents but fierce loyalty… to a certain circle of highly-placed archmaesters. Maesters who had spent many years in the east have returned. There is even a maester, chain and all, who I am sure is no maester at all. Not since he was stripped of his chain."

Alric's sharp, involuntary gesture drew Elia's attention on him. He had gone as pale as she had rarely seen him. He looked… scared.

Baelor Hightower nodded. "I can see you have guessed who I mean," he said. "Maester Qyburn served in Salt Shore many years ago before he suddenly… left. Or was banished by the Prince of Dorne, as the case might be. Both unheard of at the time."

"He is no maester," Alric said. "Do not call him that." He paused. "Really? Qyburn? I hoped he had died. I should have known better. Evil doesn't die so easily… and he was evil personified."

"Truly?" Baelor looked curious. "I have met him. He looks… kindly."

Alric nodded. "He did have this way about him, even then. He looked fatherly, although he couldn't have been more than ten years older than me. So, he was reinstated? By the gods, why?"

"It seems that he managed to convince most of the archmaesters in his innocence," Baelor said, sipping at his glass. "I imagine the false letter from the Prince of Dorne complaining of his incompetence, lies, and disloyalty helped his cause."

Alric didn't say anything.

"I saw the letter myself," Baelor pressed. "Then, I had it left where I had it taken from. The seal was that of Dorne… but not the signature. And there are many letters by Mors Martell in our library. Sometimes, he used a maester to write them. Sometimes, he did that himself. But the handwriting in that letter didn't resemble anything that I saw by him, although I compared with the letter in hand."

Still, Alric was silent.

"My lord, do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to say about that?"

"That you must have lots of free time if you have so much to spare for such a man."

Elia definitely had the feeling that her father was trying to deflect the questions. But Baelor wasn't having any of it. "My lord, do you know who falsified the letter?"

"Yes," Alric said. "I did."

Such an outright admission didn't shock either Elia or Doran. They were long used to their father's ways and although he had been removed from them for a while, they had Oberyn to repeat them. Baelor, though, clearly hadn't expected such sincerity. "Would you tell me why, my lord?"

"Because it would have caused quite a stir and my goodfather was already very ill. My lady and I chose to take care of the matter ourselves. Because Qyburn was lying and dishonest."

"Incompetent, too?"

"Too competent," Alric said. "Can you do something about him? Make sure that he won't be sent to another castle, at least? No one could ever deserve to have him," he added darkly. "He's very dangerous. He can fool anybody, with that caring face, like he did us."

"In what way? What did he do at Salt Shore?"

For a moment, it looked as if Alric would say something but then he reconsidered. "Something bad enough to merit a further investigation from the Order of maesters and have him stripped of his chain," he said. "I'd rather not return to those times."

Baelor nodded. "I'll talk to your brother, then," he said. "Perhaps Lord Gargalen won't mind sharing his memories about that time. If I am to meddle in the deeds of the Citadel, I need to know what I'm doing."

"No!"

Alric's voice was so forceful that Elia had trouble believing that it was truly his. She hadn't seen him like this since before she had left to wed, before her mother got so very ill, before all their lives went spinning downwards.

"You asked a question, I gave you the answer. My brother is unwell right now and I won't let you talk to him about times we all tried to forget. Just go back to Oldtown and try to understand what in the seven hells they thought they were doing when they reinstated this… thing. Does the rest of the Citadel even know that he was ever stripped of his chain?"

"Not very likely," Baelor said. "I'm afraid that I have to insist, my lord, if you aren't going to tell me. I must talk to Lord Gargalen, or perhaps your lady mother. After all, she was the lady of Salt Shore at the time."

"I'd really advise you not to do this."

Elia wondered if this was a threat. No, her father would not harm Baelor. Not here, in Sunspear. Not just for asking questions. But it seemed that the two men had reached some kind of understanding, although not agreement, and Doran asked, "May I ask why you came to us, instead of asking the Iron Throne for assistance?"

Baelor looked at him as if the answer was self-evident. "Since when does the Iron Throne care for those who stayed loyal?" he asked and Elia smiled.

 


	17. In Dangerous Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter was meant to be part of the last one. When I was writing that one, I didn't know how I'd be able to plan my time for the next few weeks, so I decided to split them but thematically, they're part of a whole.

Elia did not see her father anymore this day till the evening feast came and of course, that was not the time or place to ask questions. Meanwhile, she went through the archives that were open for everyone's use but did not find anything regarding the kindly maester Baelor had been talking about. She had not really expected to, however: if such an evidence existed, and why her parents would let anything connected to their illegal actions exist at all, it would be contained to the ruler of Dorne's personal cabinets. _I'll check at Salt Shore the next time I go there_ , she thought and then she realized that if there were any traces there, they would have been guarded even more closely than here, in the Old Palace.

"Is something the matter?" Loreza asked as they went through the list of courses and entertainments for the night one last time.

"Nothing," Elia said, suddenly grateful that she was home, that they were aware of the danger, that every maester the Citadel sent to a Dornish castle or keep would be watched until it became sure that they could be trusted.

"Well, it is now," her sister said. "Stannis Baratheon is on his way here," she clarified and Elia's first thought was a quick mental overview of whom she could move out of their chamber to make room for the Lord of Storm's End before the real meaning of the words filled her with excitement and fear.

At the end, it was Alynna who had to give up her new chambers – well, the bedchamber that she had kept use of during this visit – and move back with Elia's ladies while Arel had to share a room with Arthur once again. Elia could not say who was unhappier with this, husband or wife, but Alynna got used to the change so swiftly that Elia knew – despite the tentative closeness that her cousin and Arel had started building, it would be a long time before the wound scarred.

At least Alynna no longer wept all night long. But now, it was Elia who wanted to. The bed had become too huge, the night chill too great without Arthur next to her. When she saw him in the daylight, his eyes always drawn to the practice yard that was now always crowded and the song of swords and spears, she could feel his longing for this world, wondered why he would not take part in the jousts, and thought that she would not go to him, not yet. Not as long as his desire for this world of horse and steel was stronger than his desire for her, Elia of Dorne, stronger than anything in this world; at night, when she couldn't go to sleep, she was of half a mind to go to the room he now shared with his brother and lie down next to him, Arel's presence be damned. When this longing became too strong, she often went to Dyanna's room and then Rhaenys and Aegon's ones, careful not to wake them or their nursemaids. Out of the three, Aegon was the soundest sleeper, so she sometimes took him out of his bed and carried him to her own. There, she went to sleep, holding him to her.

She could feel that Arthur wanted to reconcile with her. She sensed in his eyes when he thought she didn't know he was looking at her – and sometimes when he knew she knew. But he never came to her chambers at night and in the day, in the many instances they happened close to each other, he never apologized. Did he really think she was like her mother? He had said it as if it was such a bad thing, and so anger and pride kept her at bay.

Around her, everything and everyone seemed to be blooming. Arianne, thrilled to be the centre of all the celebrations, seemed to be walking on air. Coral no longer watched Arel with longing and hidden desire as she had used to. At least not all the time. Although she still stared at Alynna with sad envy, feeling that her youthful charm could never compare to that powerful allure of a woman in her bloom. How well Elia knew this feeling! She had felt it all her life and most acutely when she and Alynna had both been fifteen, sixteen, seventeen – true lookalikes and still Elia had retained her childhood image for much longer, much to her chagrin. _You'll grow up_ , she wanted to tell Coral. _We all do,_ at the end. But of course, that would only make the girl feel even more uncomfortable in her skin.

The flower bushes in the pots, carefully nourished to thrive in the hot dry climate of Sunspear, turned purple, and fiery red, and golden. In the morning, Elia pressed her face in the wet coldness of the lilac bush in her mother's private garden – a ritual that had guaranteed luck all through the day for as long as she could remember. That was what she was doing when the news that the Lord of Storm's End had arrived came.

"It was about time," Alynna commented. "Because tonight, I was taking my chamber back."

"I imagine he would have been quite pleased to find you there when I showed him in," Elia said drily. " _Especially_ if you were asleep."

Alynna smiled but didn't answer when at one time, she would have. It isn't easy for her either, Elia thought again. What a pair they were – Elia was feeling unfortunate in love because she and Arthur weren't getting along and Alynna was feeling the same way because she and Arel were getting along and nothing more.

"Come on," Elia said. "I'll come with you to my chambers and then I'll go and have a look at him."

She wanted to delay Alynna's meeting with the newcomer as long as possible out of fear that he'd feel her cousin's hatred, the hatred that she couldn't direct with Lord Robert who had deserved it.

Stannis Baratheon turned out to be a surprise. With him being an almost nonentity before the war, she had never paid much attention as his name had been mentioned. She knew that he wasn't well-liked but she expected to meet a man with some of Robert Baratheon's charisma, at least some. But there was none of this about him. Not a touch of the power and the masculine handsomeness that had been wrapped around the dead man like his own cloak with the stag on it. It wasn't that he was ugly, not at all. In fact, the tightness of his face and the big jaw could give him that kind of imperfectness that made one charming – if not for the grim determination stifling all other feelings the man might have. _He'd look out of place in the festivities,_ Elia thought. _He probably feels ill at ease at feasts._ And his most prominent companion didn't look this prominent at all. In fact, Elia had the feeling that he belonged to the smallfolk which was interesting enough in itself – but the fact that the tips of his fingers were missing intrigued her even more. Yes, she expected many surprises from Stannis Baratheon while the late Robert had been as mysterious as clear water. Elia couldn't blame the Stark for not wanting to wed him, although she did blame her for designating her, Elia's husband, for the part of the romantic knight in her story.

"Move over," she whispered in Ashara's ear because the grated opening that let them see in the chamber of Doran's council without being seen was too narrow for two people to fit comfortable. She didn't know when this little room in the wall had been built because she had a vague impression that it hadn't always been there. It was designed in a way that always kept it in the shadow, so no one could see the faces behind the grating and realize that it wasn't just for ornamental and venting purposes.

Today, it was just Doran and Baratheon sitting there. _Of course_ , Elia thought. Doran wanted to talk to the man before involving his councilors and it was hardly possible for him to include a family without having to deal with the enmity addressed at their guest for the absence of its real object.

Doran gave the man a long look and discarded all formalities, something that would normally displease Elia. It was clear that her brother was seeing in him the same thing she was – dislike for any dissembling. "Why are you here, my lord? It wasn't just to deliver this wooden… forest… to my daughter in person."

"It wasn't," Stannis Baratheon agreed. "I want to know why you want to ruin me," he said and his bluntness must have surprised even Doran, for he was silent for a moment.

"Why do you think I want to ruin you?" he asked.

"Lord Whitehead has reported to me of great difficulties with maintaining the trade. All debts from the Iron Bank are being called in, so our traders cannot afford to buy eastern goods in enough quantities. The ships arrive, heavy with cargo, and leave just as heavy, while the big traders cannot satisfy the demand in the region because they're struggling with their debts. As a result, the smaller ones cannot buy anything for resale. Lords and ladies who relied on getting some new loans to recover from the loss of people and crops are left stranded."

"And what does it have to do with me?" Doran asked.

Stannis Baratheon snorted. "Do not play me for a fool. I looked into the matter more closely and it turned that all those debts have been bought by a certain woman. The Sealord's lady wife. Who, as you would know, is your cousin on your father's side."

"And a new mother," Doran reminded him. "Mothers are known to try and provide for their children and the position of the Sealord is not hereditary."

"Is that what all this is about?" Baratheon asked. "Your sister is trying to provide a… throne for her son?"

Doran didn't deny it. Instead, he simply smiled. "Is that what you're thinking? And if it is, does it bother you so much?"

Baratheon snorted. "Not at all," he said. He didn't add anything more but his sentiment was clearer than if he had shouted. Elia's lips curled into a smile of content. But she wondered why he had bothered to come in person. Surely the stormlands weren't the poorest region in Westeros? Were they more affected than the rest? Despite the contacts and the discreet and not so discreet visits and presents for her and her children, the tactful and not so tactful questions and all else there was not a single one lord who had come to accuse Doran of trying to destroy him. Not a lord of standing. Stannis Baratheon was the first one…

"Perhaps it's Lord Mallister you want to talk to?" Doran suggested. "After all, you were at one side during the unfortunate… misunderstanding."

Elia could see how Stannis Baratheon's face flushed a furious red. "Misunderstanding?" he repeated, losing his calm. "Your sister lost her crown and you call it misunderstanding?"

Doran sipped at his water, his face unchanging. "It was a misunderstanding that led to the tragedy," he said. "As we now know, Lady Lyanna disliked her betrothal and there was no reason for Brandon Stark to ride to King's Landing… and no reason for Jeffory Mallister either."

Any feeling the man might be experiencing was now pushed deeply back where it belonged. He said with indifferent voice, "Indeed. I so wished she had gone about that betrothal in a more common way – announcing her objections, instead of running away and hiding."

_That wouldn't have settled my problems_ , Elia thought but she did not really expect of Lord Baratheon to think about her problems at all.

"I don't think I have anything to talk about with Lord Mallister," Baratheon stated. "Being on the side that lost isn't a good foundation of rapport."

Less than two hours later, Elia already knew that their guest would wed Amabel Mallister in a few months.

"Money can do much to help him constrain Connington's influence," was all Doran said. "And Seagard doesn't have nearly as much debts to the Iron Bank – to Lanore now, that's it – as Storm's End."

The idea of Jon Connington being put in his place made Elia rejoice in advance. That was what the man deserved for being so disgustingly jealous, so hard-trying to explain to Rhaegar just how unworthy his Dornish bride was. He was no doubt proud and happy with the part Rhaegar had given him – to keep Lord Baratheon's not too great influence in further check. Well, he wouldn't be so for long.

* * *

The spear was so long that it could be seen from the shore quite clearly, sticking high into the sky. It was, in fact, made of two long spears nailed one on top of another, the shield attached to the second one, and hammered in the sand of the sea bed by two of the best divers at Sunspear before the crowd filled the shore. The day was lovely, not a single cloud marred the sky and its blue depth made a great background for the dark spear and the boats cutting the water toward it.

The competition was supposed to be attractive only for the smallfolk or at least the highborn weren't expected to show their delight openly but Elia had always enjoyed it a great deal. She was seated in the Martell barge, safely away from the shield but close ebough to see clearly, counting the boats. All over the shore, people had come to watch, the crowd constantly shifting and craning their necks to see better. Children as young as three were hoisted on their fathers' shoulders, as much as to see better as to avoid being trampled. Among the crowd, vendors wove their way with usual dexterity, ordering fish, clams, meat, and trinkets alike.

On the great barge, the mood was mainly festive. Arianne, dressed from head to toe like a little lady, almost jumped from her seat to see better each time she thought a boat might be coming. The ladies were mostly eager, as were many of the men. Elia noted, though, that a good deal of those who found it a matter of honour to take part in every joust had taken care to stay away from the water tourney, no doubt finding it demeaning to take a salty bath.

"I wish I could be there," Elvar said softly but Elia heard him anyway.

"Next year," she said and her half-brother smiled ruefully. Even Coral Hightide knew it would be much longer before he'd be up to his onetime condition and she gave Elia a look of bewilderment before catching herself just as in the sea before them, Oberyn toppled and fell into the boat after successfully breaking his spear in the shield. Laughter and cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Does he get any points?" Coral asked, excited, and Ashara explained that he had got some points for breaking his spear and lost a few for falling, albeit not as many as he would have if he had fallen into the sea.

"That's a great game!" the girl exclaimed and Elia smiled, relieved that the northern lady was adapting so successfully.

"It's a pity that he never mastered it," another woman said and Elia tried to remember where she knew her from. Ah! Ellaria. Ellaria Sand. She had been a friend of Loreza for many years. Elia hadn't seen her in a very long time.

"I wish I could go," Lady Nym said excitedly and Elia saw the quick look Mellario gave her. Clearly, her goodsister was fearing that the girl might try it. Now. The girl who had barely learned how to swim more than half the length of a pool. Not that it would have stopped Oberyn.

"Are they going to drown?" Daena asked, raising her voice to be heard over the noise. "Or are the sea gods going to turn them into sea beasts? Uncle says that Father should have been born a fish," she went on as Arthur stood with his legs apart and prepared for a blow. Elia's heart started pounding. All too late, she realized that unlike real tourneys, the water ones had never been his strongest suit… that he had not taken part in this one in almost ten years and the last time he had participated, he had hit his head in the boat pretty bad… that as haunted and tired as he was now, it was not the moment for him to pursue something that he wasn't this good as… He dealt a blow and the shield swayed, the spear went to pieces, and the roar of the crowd went up to the sky and even higher. With her heart in her mouth, she watched as he swayed but his control was such that at the last moment, he managed to push left and fall in the boat and not the water. Someone handed him a water-skin to drink and a moment later, he was already at an oar, rowing away and then towards the shield again to give every man in their vessel a try.

"That's a childish game," Stannis Baratheon announced and Elia was gripped by equal parts disdain and pity. She got the feeling that he might have done well in such a game if he only allowed himself to try. Of course, doing well did not preclude falling in the boat or sea…

"He'll do it," Naeryn predicted next to her. Her eyes were shining, their violet deeper in the shade of the canopy shielding them from the sun. "Your father will break the spear and he'll topple over straight into the water," she told Daena who squealed in delight at both prospects. Naeryn didn't look much different than a mischievous child herself. Elia looked from them to the water where Jason Mallister was getting ready to strike. Oberyn was shouting something and Arthur was shaking his head at him angrily as they both rowed at fast as they could to give Jason a greater momentum. He raised the spear… and the shield, weakened by all the blows it had taken, burst into pieces that flew over the sea before falling on the gently rolling surface to float some.

Jason was about to fall over the side of the board but Oberyn discarded his oar and grabbed him in the last possible minute as the shore and barge went into cheers. Even Baratheon was saying, "Good job," as next to him, Amabel was shouting in joy without any restraint.

"They won the shell!" Elia gasped because that was the price the winning team would take home, a huge shell of emeralds and sapphires containing another, and then a third and fourth one. There was no way that they had lost it, not with all the points they had taken and Jason practically destroying the shield. She smiled when they reached the barge and climbed in dripping water all over, and then smiled some more when the biggest shell, the first one, somehow made its way to Naeryn's palm. The smile turned into an outright grin when she heard Naeryn ask bluntly, "That's a nice present but is that all? Are we going to made love, finally, or not?"

Blush overcame Jason's fair face but to his credit he recovered swiftly. "We are," he promised and kissed her wrist, the place where her arm ended. Elia gasped.

"He notices more than he lets on," Arthur said behind her and she turned, gasping. He was smiling at her, albeit a little hesitantly, still in his soaked garments. He hadn't even wiped his hair and it kept dripping. And as she watched him, she suddenly realized that her anger had faded. No, it had faded long ago. It had only been her pride that had kept her from answering his silent attempts for truce. Now, he looked almost happy when he hadn't entered a single joust… and in the only competition he had taken part in, the decisive win had been collected for them by someone else. Something had changed. She smiled back and felt his relief. If they were alone, he would have opened his arms and she would have gone to him without hesitation.

"Let's look at the good side," he said and she knew he was thinking of that last conversation, when she had accused him of wanting glory more than anything else. "I did finish a lot better than I did nine years ago."

 


	18. Unwelcome Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed and sorry about the long delay!

_Two months later…_

"When did it start raining?"

Coral Hightide gave her a startled look, as if she feared for her mind.

"My lady, it was two days ago…"

"Aha."

Elia sat near the window with Rhaenys in her lap and watched the darkened sky, listened to the patter of the fat drops against the blood oranges. She had no idea what time it was and she didn't feel like bothering to ask. The grey day was in full accord with the emptiness in her heart, so ravaged by fear that it could no longer stir.

At least until Loreza entered on soundless feet and sat near her.

"Dyanna? Aegon?" Elia asked without looking at her. The sight of Rhaenys' face, as red as a flame, was too painful so she just kept staring out.

Loreza didn't answer immediately and horror grabbed Elia again. "What?" she demanded and started to rise. Rhaenys whimpered.

"No, no!" Loreza said. "They're both fine. The fever stopped with Rhaenys. No one else was infected."

Elia sat back and closed her eyes. The last week had been the most horrible one she has ever suffered. The high fever had struck three children from around the pools, Loreza's boy, Daena, and Rhaenys… Lavall had been burning up only for a day and night and Daena was already proclaimed to be on the mend, although she still couldn't walk on her own but Rhaenys had been the one most affected. For seven days, she had been burning in such a fever that the wet sheets they wrapped her in got dry on her in less than an hour… Never in her life had Elia felt so helpless… and it wasn't over yet. Who could say what damages a fever had this long and severe left behind? She looked at her sister again.

"How is she?" Loreza asked.

"Better," Elia said. "Her fever broke. She's sleeping now."

A smile spread across Loreza's face. She nodded. "Can I do something for you?"

"Stay here," Elia replied and shook her head. "No, no, I know you want to stay with Laval. Thank you for coming."

"He wanted to know how Rhaenys is… He wanted to visit her."

Elia smiled, this small innocent sign of affection of a child barely older than Rhaenys being better than any restoring potion.

"Perhaps tomorrow," she said. "If they're both up to it."

Her sister left and Elia stared out once again, feeling like the loneliest creature under the sun. Loreza loved her and Rhaenys, she knew that, but she was in a hurry to get back to her own ill child. Mellario was so scared of the fever that she had not let Arianne or Quentyn out of their chambers and she had never come to see Elia and Rhaenys in person. Her father came often but his care was not enough. Even Arthur who offered to do things instead of her could not suffice. She had discovered within herself an obsessive need to do everything for Rhaenys on her own. For some reason, she truly felt that only she could care for her daughter properly.

It was Rhaegar that she wanted and this was absurd. Did she still think that he cared about the children as much as her? No, she didn't. Not anymore. He wasn't a maester. He couldn't have helped and Elia resented herself for wanting him to share the concern. The burden. And this resentment sometimes caught her unprepared even in the process of changing the sheets on Rhaenys.

Footfalls made her look up and she turned, lifting Rhaenys up a little. Without waking up, the little girl whimpered and buried her head in her mother's breast.

Before even entering, Arthur looked at the bed and startled when he saw it empty. His wild eyes went around the room and Elia suddenly felt so stupid for wanting Rhaegar. Arthur had been here all the time through Rhaenys' illness. She stirred a little to attract his notice because in her dark robes, she was almost invisible against the chair.

Arthur exhaled and smiled, heading for her. "How is she?" he asked.

"Her fever broke. She fell asleep a while ago."

"Why did you take her out of bed?"

"She was crying. Since she got ill, she's most comfortable in my arms."

Arthur leaned over and stroked Rhaenys' forehead very gently. Then, his eyes turned to Elia. "Why is she still in this sheet, then? If she doesn't have a fever anymore?"

"It isn't wet," Elia assured him. "Just to make sure that she won't get too warm from my skin… silk keeps one cool…"

"She isn't hot. But we must put her back to bed now. She'll be more comfortable there and she won't startle awake, you'll see."

Elia rose. He was right, of course, and still as she placed Rhaenys in her bed and let him place the light sheet over her, she wondered if he would have understood her fear to let Rhaenys out of her arms if he had been her child's father. But of course, she didn't say it aloud - she was too ashamed.

How innocent she had been still just two weeks ago, thinking that as long as she was with Arthur and he loved her as much as she did him, all would be well at the end!

* * *

In another bedchamber in the Water Gardens, Naeryn rose from the edge of Daena's bed after she had applied a soothing ointment on her skin that was raw to the touch. Amabel touched her niece's hand and smiled. "She's truly better."

"What?" Naeryn asked when Amabel drew back and paused, staring at the two of them. "What's wrong? She's fine now. Truly."

"I know." There was surprise written all over the girl's face. "The two of you… you look like mother and daughter. I haven't noticed it before, not truly."

Naeryn felt her cheek warm up. She was sure that Amabel meant no harm but she had done one. Children were one of the things that she longed for but she was not brave enough to try. And she was already nearing her twenty-fifth nameday… If things had been different, she might have been a mother of three, with a fourth on the way.

"For a smart girl like her, sometimes your sister says some very stupid things," she said brusquely to Jason who watched them from the other side of the room. He had spent there the last week – Naeryn suspected that this was longer than he had ever spent with the confusing creature he called his daughter before!

"Not always," Jason said, staring at her. Naeryn wondered what he was seeing. Daena had only wanted her aunt and her, Naeryn, so they were both exhausted and Naeryn knew that when exhausted, she looked quite the fright. The bags under her eyes were more like coffers and if she didn't brush her hair out soon, it'd get so tangled that she'd have to cut it off. "Not this time, Naeryn."

* * *

In yet another chamber, Alynna Dayne watched the rain hitting her windows. Sobs shook her from head to toe but those were not the sobs of grief but the soothing sobs of released tension, a fear finally gone, a relief that was too strong to take any other shape but tears.

But her husband, of course, couldn't make the difference. Instead, when he entered the room swimming in shadows, he immediately thought the worst and stared at her horrified. "What?" he asked, his throat dry. "Who?"

Alynna looked at him, befuddled, and then slowly realized what he must be thinking. He hadn't seen her sob like this since their first nights together, when the intimacy that was pleasant to her body reminded her mind all more callously that she was no longer Errol's wife… She had last wept like this for Errol. Arel must think that…

"They're fine," she said, rushing to reassure him after scaring him this badly. "I'm just so happy. It's over, Arel. Rhaenys' fever broke. There hasn't been any other new case for five days. They're safe, Arel Safe!"

Without thinking, moved just by her instinct, she rushed into the arms he opened readily, pressed herself against him and felt the uneven beating of her heart. Like her, he had been so frightened for her children. Little Ilon, in particular, caught every sickness those around him had and he was not a strong child to begin with. At the age of almost two, he still couldn't tolerate most foods and went by milk…

"Hold me," Alynna whispered and pressed herself against Arel so closely that should a knife made its way in this chamber, it would be unable to pass between their two bodies. "Just hold me."

He did, and when they finally broke up, he looked her in the eye and carried her to bed. For the first time, she accepted him without any reservations, any feelings of unfaithfulness. She had loved Errol but Errol was no longer here. She had to choose between Arel and this terrifying loneliness. Between someone who cared about her children as much as she did and the memories of one who could no longer do so.

"Today, I'll conceive," she said, fully believing it, feeling that it would be so. "I'll give you a son, Arel. An heir."

"Just give me a child who lives," he replied hoarsely between kisses. "It'll be more than enough."

Too preoccupied with each other, they didn't notice the rain stopping… didn't notice the girl who wept as she watched them from the garden from the now clear windows because they had not bothered to draw the curtains closed… didn't notice anything…

* * *

_A month later…_

Rhaegar had not truly expected that Doran would show up as invited but he expected to send someone dignified in his place, at least. Instead, he stared at a young golden-haired woman in a green gown with such a low cleavage that no lady would dare put it on, and rubies so bright that they had to be paste. At least she wasn't the girl he had taken her for when she had first entered the throne room. As she came close, a wave of whispers in her wake, Lyanna leaned towards him and whispered furiously, "Is he _trying_ to be offensive? Sending us a whore?"

"Who knows," he whispered back, pleased that she was finally getting some grasp over nuances and unsettled because he didn't really believe that Doran would risk sending a negotiator whose only merits resided under her chin. He cared for Dorne before his pride. Or had to. He had separated her from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, after all. _But he needs a good trading agreement as much as we do,_ Rhaegar reasoned out. _A good part of the goods from Essos might pass through Dorne but he has no interest to_ keep _them there. And he must be aware that the demand for Dornish wines and fruit had increased with spacing the caravans out. He has to be mad to send us someone imcompetent in a moment when he isn't in the losing position._

All those good reasons did not mean, of course, that the woman was not a whore and an insult. But they helped him not to be surprised when from close, he discovered blue eyes that were cold and calculating. What did surprise him – and it surprised him to be surprised – was the half-curtsey she did in the foot of the dais. It was only expected by the envoy of a ruler who did not acknowledge Rhaegar's authority over his but it still irked him. A look at Lyanna told him that she hadn't noticed the difference that was evident to half of the people present. Would she ever learn the language of court?

"Welcome to King's Landing, my lady," he said politely. "I must admit that I was expecting Prince Doran but I'm happy to receive the one he chose to represent him."

"Loreza Sand," she replied equally politely and suddenly, he wasn't so happy. The Seven curse him, Doran had managed to place him into a tight spot indeed! A bastard and a whore, by the looks of her… she had even sprinkled some powder over her indecenly exposed breasts. All ladies at court would be scandalized the moment she took her place at the high table. He had planned to have both Doran's man and the Sealord at the dais in the hopes of finding the best decision for the crisis that was pressing both his realm and Dorne. How could he do it with a bastard, and painted as this one? There was no way those black eyelashes of hers were truly this colour. Not with this fair hair. He had no doubt that she had all details discussed with Doran in advance.

"I was expecting you much earlier," he said abruptly and wondered if his irritation had shown.

She didn't look offended. "I'd like to offer my apologies, Your Grace. My child was ill. There was a dangerous fever that spread in the Water Gardens and so I was delayed."

Her words were the very formality and yet there was something under those painted lashes that challenged him to… to do what? What had she said? Her child had been ill… there had been a fever in the Water Gardens…

His blood curdled. That must be it. One of the children had been ill. Or still was. Very ill, else she wouldn't look this smug. At his left, Lyanna stiffened.

At this moment, Rhaegar wanted Elia and everyone else who had taken a part in rearing the children in front of him, so he could throttle them. Of course they would be ill. They lived in a place populated with more beggar children than Flea Bottom! By the Seven, Dyanna was merely a babe and Aegon not much older!

The worst thing was that he couldn't even ask about them. Not in an official meeting, not before the entire court. When he only inquired about Doran's family's health, hoping a little that Loreza Sand would slip and mention the children, Lyanna relaxed and that angered him. Did she equate any interest that he showed them with wanting to reinstate them as his trueborn children? Loreza Sand looked vaguely disappointed and that confused him. But she didn't make the slip.

 


	19. Black and White, and All Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay! I really couldn't find enough time and enough focus properly but I am not leaving this story unfinished. Instead of delaying even more, I decided to split this chapter in two. Many thanks to everyone who commented, kept asking for updates, and simply waited for me to be ready.

Lyanna disliked the maester from the very beginning, more than the pretentious Grand Maester Pycelle, with his ridiculous beard. There was something in his warm brown eyes that made it all wrong. He was here to examine her and determine the source and duration of her troubles. She would rather have him stick to this and not offer sympathy and understanding that felt awfully like intrusion. She had heard that some women found it soothing to build some rapport with the maesters who attended them in their most intimate hours but she abhorred the idea of exposing her breasts or worse, her nether regions to the eyes of a friend. Or someone who looked at her fatherly. _I had a father,_ she thought and blinked furiously. _I_ _had one and lost him and if he were alive, he would have never let Rhaegar do this to me, never ever!_ She now regretted her petrified silence when Rhaegar had told her about the forthcoming examination. She dearly wished she had told him that he clearly did not have such great trust in his prophecy, after all, if she needed to be examined about her lacking moon blood that she was quite sure was not due to a forthcoming child. If he truly believed in his three heads of the dragon, he would have waited for her to recover in her own time. Instead, he had summoned a maester whose kindly manner made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. No one here was kind without wanting something in return. Even Rhaegar…

For a moment, Elia Martell's face flashed behind her eyes. Was this how she had felt when she had been examined and being found useless from now on? Had she ever been examined at all, or had the maesters made their _wrong_ conclusion on the basis of her last birth alone? Lyanna was ashamed now for never asking Rhaegar, for just accepting that this was fate without questioning. _Because questioning might have made me doubt my good luck and see the ugliness_ , she now realized but of course, it was too late for regrets. She had to save her pity for herself and if she could chase it away altogether, all the better. So she ground her teeth and started replying the man's questions about the most private aspects of her life, immensely grateful that she was not about to lie down and feel his hand in her… At least, not yet. But she would not forget about Rhaegar's doubts. About this last betrayal. Because if he had started doubting himself as he had already done twice, then… what had it all been for? Why had her father and Brandon died? Why would Ned no longer talk to her? Why had she spent all this time in this blasted tower as around her, the world came to ruins? Why?

* * *

"No."

The word came out with finality that made Rhaegar clench his fists. His initial relief that the woman in front of him did not resemble Elia in the slightest was turning fast into intense dislike. Elia would have never risked the ruins of thousands just for her pride or misguided loyalty, or whatever drove this cousin of hers, Lanore Gargalen, the wife of the Sealord of Braavos.

"I am sorry, Your Grace," the young woman said, "but I cannot delay the payments of the loans anymore. It is my due to provide for my son. Children," she corrected herself. She never bothered to disguise her swollen belly which only reminded Rhaegar unpleasantly of Lyanna's refusal to undergo the next exam. The sight of Lanore the Barren, now great with her second child, should have been a warning and reminder but instead, it only served to make her dig her heels in.

"How much does a little boy and a still unborn babe need?" Rhaegar asked, admirably controlled. "Certainly not the income of a whole continent!"

Now, Bennaro Ferronto, the Sealord of Braavos, cut in with tone that showed that he was offended by this address to his wife. "I would rather leave the matter for their mother to decide," he said. "I have come to the realize that mothers have more insight."

The Master of Coin gave them a look of dislike. "Is the Iron Bank led by the whims of women?"

"When certain loans have been bought by the woman in question, then yes," Lanore Ferronto replied. "You seem to be operating under an assumption that is not quite right, Your Grace, my lord."

"One of the terms of our marriage settlement was that I should not infringe in my lady's business interest," the Sealord explained. "It was agreed upon as early as her first marriage and the late Sealord was a man of good sense."

He said it without hesitation, with some admiration, even, as if he had not betrayed the old man and led to his death, to take everything that had been his, his wife included. Essosi perfidy should not surprise Rhaegar but the casualness of it did, somehow.

Lanore reached for her glass of wine and drank a very small sip. "Never in my life have I taken a loan that I could not return in due time," she said. "And I will not have my interests injured on behalf of people who spend more than what they have. The payments stay."

A look at Tywin Lannister's face would have revealed nothing to a common man but Rhaegar who had grown up around him interpreted it for what it was: the woman's demand could paralyze the entire economic of the realm. No more armours in enough numbers; no more ships of luxuries and even some basic necessities. And if the woman had been doing business since the time of her first wedding ten years ago, she likely wielded enough influence of her own with the Iron Bank to convince some that her current untrustworthy debtors should be replaced with new ones that everyone could work with.

So he did the only thing he could in this situation. "Then, I'm afraid our need for Braavosi goods and especially your purple dye will shrink considerably."

This, he noticed with some grim contentment, was something that she had expected but her lips tightened anyway before she could get a grip over herself.

* * *

"I suppose you were right about my makeup, Gillerd," Lanore said leisurely. "I think everyone in the great hall thinks me a Dornish whore. Or a Braavosi courtesan."

"Screw them in the great hall," Gillerd replied sharply.

Loreza knew that so far up north, people never swore in front of ladies. Not that they made a habit of it in Dorne but her husband – former husband? Late husband? _What_ was he? – was known for his foul mouth from time to time. Right now, he was so agitated that his words were actually mild.

"What did he do? Did he hit you?"

The three of them were alone in Lanore's solar. Since the Braavosi party's arrival two days ago, they had immediately decided that this was the safest place to speak, bedchambers usually being constructed with more holes in the wall for eavesdropping on pillow talks. Of course, Gillerd who had been tutored by some master spies in Dorne, had examined the walls and floor inch by inch and sealed a crack or two that looked innocent enough to the two women. Now, he felt they had enough privacy to allow him not to contain his anger.

"Did he hit you, Lanore? Answer me!"

"So you've been standing in front of my door?" she shot back. "I told you to go away! When are you going to learn and take commands? How many people did it take to stop you from bursting into my chamber?"

"Three," her brother replied meticulously. "And I will never learn to take commands, not when your safety is compromised. I've never hit you. Errol has never hit you. And Father never even raised his voice to you! If you think I'm going to stand by and watch as a brute beats you black and blue…"

"He did not beat me black and blue."

"Didn't he?" Gillerd's voice was ice. "Show me your face. Wash the paint."

She recoiled. "Stop it!"

"Show me."

"No."

"Your husband can be forgiven if he thought that appointing me the Second Sword of Braavos meant I would stay idle as he beats you, Lanore. But for you, this mistake is unforgivable. Because I won't."

Loreza who had sat quietly until now felt that she had to intervene. The situation bore uncanny resemblance to the one that had ruined her own life – and his, as well. And he had not even learned by it!

"Are you so keen on ruining Lanore's life as well?" she asked, her voice such saccharine sweetness that they both stared at her for a moment before her words registered with them. "How, exactly, are you going to help if you and her husband beat each other to a pulp? Because at the end, it will be she with him in the bedchamber, not you! That's, if you don't kill him in a way that will make you look like a hotheaded murderer as you did once – you remember the occasion?"

He went pale and in this moment, Loreza regretted the cruelty of her accusation, although deep in her heart she approved and loved him more for what he had done. But even deeper in her heart was the loneliness. His absence. What did revenge and justice mattered when he was not with her where he belonged? The fact that he had not changed at all, that he was still ready to act before he thought made her see red. "Be reasonable, Gillerd," she said, her voice softer now. "He's going through a great frustration, with Lanore refusing to extend the period of loans. This makes the negotiations harder."

"He will get over it," Lanore said with full certainty. "And I don't care about the small bruises he will grace me with through the process. I've felt much more pain because of these two. Errol and Elia's boy are more than worth it."

For a while, the three of them were silent, contemplating the game they had found themselves starting now. It was all good and right to start economic chaos in Westeros but things could take their own course and spring out of their hands in a mere moment. Once released, the beast of non-sufficient means could not be brought back. There could be even local wars starting. If they miscalculated, the unrest could even sweep Rhaegar Targaryen off his throne which they, in fact, did not want. And what about them? Lanore's determination was already driving a wedge between her and the husband who adored her; the shrinking of trade will not be taken well by the merchants in Braavos, although it was nowhere near their main source of income. That could create problems for her as well. And Gillerd had acquired enough enemies when he had beaten thirteen men in a row for his position in the Swords of Braavos and the enmity of the very First Sword when he had refused to fight for the office, thus letting rumours spread that the man had not won his position squire and honest by fighting another champion. If the half of the Braavosi elite turned against them, the other half would not lift a finger to save them. Lanore the Barren and the murderer ostracized from his own homeland. Who would even know where they would be buried? It was so easy to incite a mob and then hang out a few of them to show justice!

"It's up to you, sister," Gillerd finally said. "Neither Doran nor Elia would ever think less of you if you back down. You're the one who stands to lose most."

His voice was curt and even, yet both women felt the resignation in it. He had already lost all that he held dear, and by his own hand. His own hotheadedness. The reality of it stood like a precipice, a shadow, a void between him and Loreza, the woman who he loved and devastated. Even the distance between Braavos and Dorne could not separate them as much as that.

Lanore raised her chin. "I did not live ten years with an old man and go through all kind of turbulent changes with another husband just to cower before a man who did so much wrong to my family in such a blatant way," she stated. "And if I have to suffer his little slattern, you can be sure that I will demand my share of meat. Nothing less will satisfy me."

"Having your husband beat you will not satisfy _me_."

Gillerd had not forgotten _his_ theme and the two women looked at each other, frightened and exasperated. "Very well," Lanore sighed. "You can have a go with him if he raises his hand at me again."

This was better than letting him have his way. Reluctantly, he gave his word but when he left, being summoned by the First Sword to discuss something, the women felt relieved that should the Sealord come for a new conversation, the two men would not meet each other.

"Perhaps I made a mistake," Lanore slowly said. "I wanted him to be my sword but I never thought that he would… He isn't supposed to guard me from Bennaro."

Loreza shivered. "That's the kind of nonsense Arthur is used to spewing," she said angrily but of course, Lanore was right. Loreza was silent for a while and then gave her a look of curiosity. "You like him, don't you? Even as early as your visit at Sunspear last year, I thought you did."

Lanore blushed. _Of course she likes him,_ Loreza thought. _He is young and charming and most important of all, smitten with her._ "I take it that he satisfies you in bed?" she asked bluntly because this would explain many things and when her cousin's blush deepened, she sighed. "That's why you don't want Gillerd to give him what he deserves. For the first time in your life, you feel happy in your marital bed. I've always wondered about you highborn ladies – you, Elia, Alynna. How can you know if you're satisfied if you've only tasted one man?"

Lanore was Dornish enough not to be shocked. "I've thought about it," she said. "Perhaps it isn't knowledge but luck? And not knowing if it isn't luck anyway," she added honestly.

"I think it's a huge disservice to highborn maidens," Loreza stated. "The idea of a marriage without ever having lied with a man before."

No wonder Lanore's mother had never gotten along with her gooddaughter. Still, lately Lanore had found herself thinking along those same lines. A woman could never know if she and her betrothed would be compatible. "So that's the reason you and Gillerd tried it beforehand?" she asked.

Loreza shrugged. "Kind of. One of the reasons I knew Gillerd was the one was that our life in bed was amazing – and I knew by comparing it to other, not so amazing encounters. I am glad you have found your amazing one. But don't let passion blind you to danger, Lanore," she warned. "Perhaps you should let Gillerd in front of your door after all."

"There won't be any need soon," Lanore said, her eyes troubled again. "My husband has been invited to a hunt by the King himself. Of course, I am not invited along, not with this child. As if I didn't sail all the way from Braavos! No, I am to stay here and keep company to the northern girl."

"I am not invited either," Loreza breathed. "So, what else?"

"Someone else," Lanore clarified. "The Lion of Lannister will be there, although as far as I know, he isn't an admirer of such activities."

* * *

_The blasted woman must have the greatest head a woman has had for economy since Elaena Targaryen._ Tywin Lannister was a little surprised that the Princess of Dorne had failed to notice her makings but perhaps the girl had been too young then and they had only been rudiments. Anyway, if she had been in his vicinity, he would have recognized her budding talents and used her in his treasury. There were enough highborn maidens for useful matches but a good head for coin – that was something quite different. _Arianne Martell_ was a fool, he thought contemptuously, focusing again on the calculations.

If he put the mines at the Golden Tooth and the Pendric Hills to good use, he could buy off a good part of the debts Lanore Ferronto had managed to acquire. Not all but enough. And he would not only use these two sites. It would do him no good to turn the settlements around them into ghost towns, should he miscalculate the strain he could put the earth under. The Dornish woman had not gathered the money for a day and he would not get it in a day either. Especially when Rhaegar could prove as untrustworthy master as his father. After all, the Northern girl still attracted him back from time to time. If she bore him a second son, it would have been all for naught. And Tywin Lannister was not a man who distributed lavish gifts easily and without expectation for rewards.

"My lord…"

He looked up from the accounts. "Bring him in," he said curtly.

The grey robes of the newcomer made him smile cynically. "You look like a master," he said and saw how the man tensed. "I wonder how the King will take it if he ever finds out that the Citadel has sent someone who has been stripped of his chain to heal his Queen."

The man smiled patiently. "I was indeed sent by the Citadel, my lord," he said. "And stripping me of my chain does not mean stripping me of my knowledge. The King needed a man who knew all secrets of the body."

Tywin's own smile was cutting, like the grimace of a lion snapping his teeth. "There is no secret," he said casually. "The Dornish tried to kill Queen Lyanna and destroyed her womb beyond repair."

A movement of bushy greying eyebrows. "We don't know this, my lord," the false maester said. "I have yet to examine Her Grace. I am expected to do it the day after tomorrow while everyone else is at the hunt."

Ah yes. The hunt. Tywin already hated the thought of it but the Braavosi man should be whisked away from his snake's influence and he could not miss the chance to tell the King his good news. Wearily, he wondered if the Northern girl was being left here because Rhaegar thought she needed peace and rest, or he just didn't want to have her near. The Seven saw that his unfathomable infatuation seemed to be fading by the day, in plain sight.

Not that it mattered, of course. The reasons might be known only to the King but the result would be all the same.

"Actually, we know it," Tywin said. "The Dornish held the Queen as hostage against our King. They make no secret of the fact that they hate her. Of course they tried to kill her and remove any competition for their Prince Aegon before such competitions was ever conceived. That's what you're going to tell His Grace when he returns, or else…" His eyes went over the grey robes and this look spoke more clearly than any threat.

 


	20. Dark Place of Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who left a comment!

This was Elia's most unpleasant part of the week – the day in which she checked the accounts of the Old Palace. About halfway through the work, she was ready to give up on the negotiations Loreza was leading at King's Landing and summon her back. Without her sister, the task took twice as long, consuming the entire day. Undoubtedly, the most tedious part was checking the sums. The old Mistress of the House had died shortly after Elia's mother and the woman Mellario had appointed in her place, although not stupid or incompetent by any means, had been no stranger to making small mistakes – always to her profit – at almost every page once Loreza had proven unable to do the weekly checks.

Today, though, there were no mistakes. Everything was calculated perfectly, to the very last number of the lengths of cloth the servants received twice a year. Elia wondered if she had been right when she had not exposed the woman for what she was. But who could she have replaced her with? The members of Arianne's household had long set about in different directions and the current Mistress of the House had been seen as one of the most promising replacements, great in abilities but as it had turned out, weak in spirit. Too weak to withstand the temptation. Who could promise that the person Elia would choose next would be of better morals?

Sighing, she reached for the tea that was supposed to soften her headache. Behind the windows, the first thickening of the light pulsated, relieving some of the oppressive heat. Tottering footfalls came to her door and stopped. Thumping came and went and Elia smiled, imagining how the nursemaid was taking the children away from her door. Sometimes, the three of them were allowed to come in as she was working but not when she was checking the accounts. Arthur was strictly forbidden from coming in as well because he would take pity on her and offer a distraction that was far more interesting than the accounts and then, she would be too happy and tired to care and finish them. All of this had been tested and confirmed more than once.

"I've noticed that the household sums have diminished considerably," the Lord Treasurer commented at the feast and Elia saw how the Mistress of the House tensed.

"We've made some changes," she said nonchalantly and smiled, once again reassured that she and Loreza had chosen wisely. The woman would never try such a thing again and knowing that they held her offence against her assured her loyalty. Doran, of course, would hardly approve of such politics but Oberyn would welcome it. Naturally, she had no intention to discuss it with either.

Later at night, she shared a small triumph with Arthur, though, as they lay in her lavender-scented sheets, the moonlight bathing him and erasing the little imperfection, so the only thing that spoiled the image of the perfect knight from the songs were the now black lines of old scars crisscrossing his chest and limbs. Elia smiled at the thought that no, the scars were part of the perfect knight as well. All knights must bleed – and Arthur had bled more than profusely.

"I went through my own accounts today as well," she murmured. "I will be now able to marry them well."

"The accounts?" Arthur asked, confused, and she burst out laughing.

"No, silly, the girls! The northern girls who came with me! I've now saved enough to give them decent dowries. Every minor lord and even some of the principal Houses will be happy to have them."

"Oh," he murmured, burying his hand in her hair and not too interested in the girls' faith. "I am sure you'll make a wonderful matchmaker."

Elia narrowed her eyes at him. "I'd better do," she said. "Each one of them was sent to me with the hope to win my notice, so I would arrange good matches and pay for them instead of the families. Or keep the girls in my service until they became spinsters, although the first one was preferable, of course."

She smiled at the thought that by choosing to follow her here and stay, the girls would make matches that would let them be loyal to her and Aegon, and Dorne alone. Then, she became a little irritated because Arthur did not understand that it was her _duty_ to provide for them. Loyalty should be rewarded and like Doran and their mother before them, Elia relished bestowing honours and rewards upon those who had done her good service. Of course, she was too proud to ask the means from Doran, so she had been forced to wait and cut down her expenses for quite a while – but oh, it was so worth it!

Arthur stayed rigid as she cuddled up closer. "What?" she asked. "What is it?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes… sometimes I feel you're still a queen in your heart. A queen and a renowned knight – it's the stuff of songs but when it happened in real life, it was never easy, was it?"

"You'll have to ask my father about this," Elia replied and nestled against him, feeling the small distance opening between them and hating it. "But even if you're right… would it be so bad? Are you only capable of loving women who aren't queens?"

"No," he said immediately, with conviction, and the distance closed and Elia slept.

The next day, Doran said what Arthur had not dared and did so in casual manner that made Elia realize just how stupid they both were. "I was going to arrange matches for the girls myself, provided that they were willing," he said. "But I'm glad you were able to deal with the matter so efficiently. No doubt your generosity will soon be known far and wide. It's a good thing, I say… Let people see the difference between a queen born and bred and a petulant child who only cares about her riding and hunting, and pretending that she's a man and warrior."

Elia blushed. "I am not doing it to win points with people!" she protested but her brother smiled.

"Of course not. But win points you will. Don't tell me that you haven't thought about this because I won't believe you."

"Very well, I won't."

Of course she had thought about this! Even Arthur had thought about it, although he could not possibly believe that should the comparisons continue, should Lyanna Stark's barrenness and unfitness to be queen became known to more and more people, she and Rhaegar could find their way back to each other, queen and king? Or was he simply uncomfortable with the thought of loving a woman who should have been queen, was expected to have been queen when he had never aspired to be anything higher than the greatest knight ever lived? Disgruntled with being reminded that she had had a life with a king? But then, why wasn't he jealous of the children? Elia had no idea about how his mind worked on this account. He couldn't be as naïve as to believe that she was such a pure soul – such a fool – that she had no idea how her generosity, no matter how sincere, would heighten her reputation?

Doran smiled. "I'm pleased to see your mind in action. It's so nice when our heart's desires align with what we know is best for us, isn't it?"

Elia laughed. "I thought I was just supposed to be charming," she joked, reminding him of their first conversation after her return.

"Of course you were," he agreed. "But wit has never harmed anyone. Charm is a valuable thing to have but relying on it alone is a very hazardous thing. Your mind is the only thing that will never betray you."

His parents had told him this when he had been – how old? Eighteen? Nineteen? He had taken that to mean that heart was fallible, as proven by the rift between his mother and father that had taken years to heal. But he had not understood the full meaning of their words. Not when his half-brother Elvar had just started growing into a man with memorable features and daring to his eyes, with a way to draw people to him that Doran would have happily exchanged his place as the heir of Dorne for. And then, the disfigurement. Now, few could stay in Elvar's company without avoiding looking at him. No one was eager to make his acquaintance unless they needed something. He was not the desired company he once had been. The only way he could have a woman was to pay her. What would have become of him if he had had only had his charm working for him and then lost it?

Heart was fallible, Doran knew it only too well. Soon, he had to tell Mellario about the promise he had given the Yronwoods and he entertained little hope that she would not understand, love or not.

"Good," their father said simply when he got to hear about this and while this way of expressing himself was shorter than what she had used to hear of him, the approval in his eyes showed actual interest in her actions.

Elvar only smiled and quickly turned his head away to keep his mouth away from the reach of Rhaenys who always rushed to tug at the damaged part to make him smile entirely.

"The idea is a great one," Ashara said. "May I suggest who we start the looking for a match with?"

Elia sighed. "You're talking like Loreza," she said.

"She would have said the same, were she here," Ashara insisted. "Personally, I think the idea to start with Coral Hightide is great. And you know what? Alynna will also say it's great."

Elia hoped to the contrary but despite the precious, steadily growing relationship between Alynna and her new husband, Alynna was way too enthusiastic about a match for Coral as soon as possible. This uncertainty had never used to be like her before, with Errol. Worse, it had never been like her when they had been growing up, looking like each other as much as true sisters did but with Alynna being the healthier, the more alluring, the quicker one to mature. The more desired – not like a lady but a woman. The womanly power had come to Elia much later and even then, she had somewhat envied Alynna for her easy confidence in her own power over men. Now, her cousin was as uncertain as Arthur was. By the Seven, would they never be able to regain their youthful confidence? Now, the smallest things could give pain when none was expected.

* * *

As little as Lanore was willing to admit it, being with child was giving her quite the discomfort. She had hoped that she'd be able to avoid the swollen feet this time but it was not meant to be. At least she was past the period when she threw up everything she ate. She told herself that it was worth it and it was, especially for a woman who had waited for ten years for her first to arrive. She told herself it wasn't this bad but well, it was. She would have been pleased that she had not been required to accompany the royal party to the Kingswood, had she not been so worried about being actually cut off.

She entered the small solar with the anticipation of a nice cup of tea and a footstool for her feet. Instead, she found Gillerd and Loreza already inside. They both looked at her and although their eyes were dry and their expressions smooth, she felt like she had intruded in a conversation that would not be continued. Loreza's face was as white as snow but her eyes looked even deeper, lit by a haunted flame. Gillerd looked at her and went back to staring out the window, although the sight of the tower wall meeting him could not be pleasant. Lanore wondered who had thought about this not so subtle threat. The Stark girl? No, she lacked the sophistication. Awkward, stunted with her words which was good because Lanore was already aware of her reputation of always saying the wrong thing, unhappy and wearing her pride like a shield, Rhaegar Targaryen's girl queen did not look like she would take any interest in settling their guests in, let alone make hints.

"This looks like the Tower of the Spear to me," Gillerd said obviously, roughly. Loreza did not even nod – she just kept sitting in her chair looking straight ahead.

"Me as well," Lanore agreed. "So, has any of you summoned a maester for me?"

"Yes," her brother confirmed. "I didn't think he would be so quick to follow the summon. So, he's here already?"

"I was just told that he is waiting for me. The one who attends the Stark girl regularly, in my understanding. I thought I'd come to find you, in case you have some instructions to give me in advance."

Gillerd turned his back to the window. "No. I'll talk to him. I don't suppose you two will be willing to leave?"

This startled Loreza into laugher, although it was more sarcastic than merry. "No way!"

"Very well," Gillerd agreed. "Just do not contradict me, whatever I say. Don't ask any questions."

When the maester came in, they were all surprised. Was this kindly man the one deprived from his chain? He looked so caring, his hands soft and deft, his voice soothing. "I was told you were suffering fatigue and lightheadedness, my lady. Let's see what I can do for you and the babe."

"No, Maester Qyburn," Gillerd spoke in a low but certain voice. "Let's see what you can do for another babe. I've heard that you attend Lady Lyanna on the King's orders."

The man's gentle expression did not change. "You summoned me here to talk about the Queen?"

"You are to talk about anything my brother demands," Lanore said coldly before she succumbed to the strange urge to sit back and let him take care of her. "Do take a seat, though. I hate to see people loom over me."

The maester headed for the door instead. "Well, if my services are not needed…"

"They are very needed indeed," Gillerd said. "Even Lord Tywin Lannister has realized it. I have little doubt as to what he wants of you. So, when are you supposed to tell the King that the Dornish healers had done Lady Lyanna unfathomable injury?"

Lanore watched the man intently. Being proficient in hiding her emotions because it felt humiliating to show them, she had become adept at noticing other people hiding their emotions. In this case, it was a sharp intake of breath before the man stopped and gave her brother a look of studied politeness. "There has been a misunderstanding, my lord."

_No,_ Lanore thought, _there wasn't._ "Would you take a seat?" she asked again and this time, he did. Gillerd glanced at her as if he were wondering if she'd offer the man some sweets as well but she did not know why he was being so offensive. Proud to arrogance as he was, it was not in him to insult other people just because. At least, not anymore.

"I'll tell you how it's going to play out,"Gillerd said very softly. "You will treat the northern lady. You will not say that there is any kind of problem. You will do _all that you can_ for her to get with child."

Lanore and Loreza gasped together. But Gillerd was not done.

"I know what Tywin Lannister has threatened you with," he said. "If you go along with his wishes, _I_ will expose you instead. And instead of just revealing that you have been stripped of your chain, I will make it known _why_ , exactly, you should never be allowed in the vicinity of young women who hope to beget children."

Lanore's hands curved protectively over her own belly. Maester Qyburn did not lose the kindness of his expression. "Will you do it indeed, my lord?" he asked. "Would you bring this upon your parents?"

Gillerd's answer was quick and decisive. It was obvious that he had thought about it beforehand, yet Lanore thought she detected a little apprehension. "At the time, you were the Maester of Salt Shore and commanded respect and trust to the very end when it was all revealed to be a lie. And my lady mother was just slightly older than Lady Lyanna and my lord father, slightly older than _her_. Who do you think people are going to blame, a disgraced maester or two young people who had never had the chance to encounter properly the evil of the world? You are the evil, Maester Qyburn. You are the evil. And I will not hesitate in make it known."

The maester shook his head. "What you wish upon the Queen isn't the mark of exalted goodness, my lord," he pointed out. "You hope to have her suffer the same despair as your lady mother."

"Yes," Gillerd said shamelessly. "But unlike you, I never kept pretences that I was something other than my true self. I never hid what I was – a heartless, vindictive bastard. I am sorry, my lady," he added in Loreza's direction but by the way she stared at him, Lanore thought it was not the mentioning of bastards that had hurt her.

Gillerd had turned his attention back to the maester. "And in case you're wondering, I have the proof. Lines written by your own hand. You were so meticulous, writing down everything you did, every effect you observed… The knowledge stored in the whole Citadel will not be enough to twist it into your favour, so I suggest that you reconsider Lord Lannister's suggestion and listen to mine instead. Now leave, I have no time for creatures like you. Don't worry," he added to the two stunned women when the man, to their utter surprise, did indeed leave. "He won't sing to Lannister's tune now. Because he fears that if the details of his past come out, the price will be higher than anything he's willing to pay. And with the Citadel sending him here, I am willing to bet that they haven't told anyone, including Tywin Lannister, what he did to merit taking his chain away. We will use this to our advantage. But Lannister can't."

The two women shared a fearful look. "But what exactly did he do?" Lanore finally asked.

Gillerd shrugged. "I don't know."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Do not tell me that you have no idea because I know…"

"I won't," he assured her. "Because I have _some_ idea… and it must have been bad, Lanore. I did find his writings, the problem is that… I could not understand their meaning," he admitted. "At twelve, I was just too young. I knew enough to grasp the gist but not much else."

With a jerky movement, Loreza rose, her face dark. "Oberyn has studied in the Citadel, though," she said icily. "And he knew, he knew there was something about this Qyburn – Baelor Hightower told is. Oberyn should have…"

"Leave Oberyn alone!" Gillerd snapped. "He has no idea what I found. I was lucky enough to feel bored and explore the abandoned rooms at Salt Shore when I was alone, without him or Alor. I found the parchments in his chamber – not the one the new maester was living in but the dusty and abandoned one. They were in a hiding place…" He paused. "Even now, I am not sure I actually want to know what they mean. Whatever it is, it's too loathsome to be considered!"

Loreza was staring at him, unblinking – and then, she could not stop blinking. "You kept a secret from Oberyn and Alor?" she gasped. "I thought it wasn't… possible."

That only aggravated his frustration. "I know, I know! Too close to them… feeding each other's dark side… the embodiment of everything you despise… did I miss something?"

But Loreza was not about to let him goad her into reminiscing of old times when she had made it clear, in over a year, that her cousin was the last man she'd ever look at, freedom of bastards or not. No matter how tempting it was. She had wed him at the end, had she not? "So, Oberyn wasn't playing a game when he didn't say he knew anything about this maester?" she pressed.

"I never told them," Gillerd confirmed. "Although they might have helped me understand. It was my father that was involved, not theirs."

"But what happened?" Lanore asked.

"It happened the time Mother was with child for the first time," Gillerd said. "A little odd that she got with child early in her marriage, then the child died at birth and she went for more than ten years without conceiving even once but just when she and Father were at the all time low of their relationship, she had Errol… almost as if she could have had this child much early on but she did not want to, don't you think?"

He was only answered by silence. For the first time, Loreza realized that Isanne Gargalen's story did not make much sense. There had been no children for her, no losses, nothing at all like Arianne Martell but she had had her children effortlessly. In her thirties. And forties.

"And you think…?" Lanore finally asked.

"I don't know why, but I think Qyburn did things to her… them, perhaps… without their knowledge. And the child was born… not as it should have been."

They both looked revolted but while Lanore went white, Loreza who had the advantage of not being with child at the moment went the logical way. "Dark arts?" she asked straightforwardly. "Is this what you suspect?"

Gillerd nodded. "That was what he was stripped of his chain for," he said. "Else, we would have heard about this unfortunate first pregnancy. Women lose their babes. Not all babes are born perfect. This is the way of the world and it certainly isn't a reason to hide such a thing. But instead, they closed the old-time nursery and forbade everyone from entering… or talking… It is as if this child never existed. They evicted the maester – well, this was our grandfather but can you believe Grandmother would have just stood by and let him have his way if she did not believe that Qyburn had something to do with it? By his notes of doses and effects, I think he was… conducting experiments."

Now, Lanore shot from her chair and ran for the door, didn't make it and threw up right on the thick carpet. Loreza hurried to help her but Gillerd stayed where he was, watching his sister dispassionately. He had not missed the brief horror in her eyes as she had looked at him, horror that had nothing to do with the general gruesomeness of the story he had told about their parents but him. His leanings. The dark place that he called his heart.

 


	21. Radiance Dimmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a comment and oh, the show agrees with me on the premise of this? WTF? The SHOW?

For a moment, Gillerd stared at his sister as she returned to her seat and closed her eyes, then turned to Loreza, preparing for the anger in her eyes. She loved him – or she had loved him, at least – despite his flaws, not through overlooking them. She would know what he meant, not try and reassure herself that he something kinder and more compassionate in mind and she had simply misunderstood.

Of course, his sister knew him as well. Without bothering to call a servant to clean up the mess on the floor, she stared at him as soon as she could keep her focus. "No," she said flatly. "You have never dabbled in dark sorcery before."

He shrugged. "And I won't do so now," he said. "Was it I who summoned the man to treat her? No, it was her own husband, the one she walked over corpses to get. I suggest that she addresses her grievances to him. I am curious to see what their prophesied children will look like," he added and smiled. "They say some of Maegor the Cruel's offspring were… interesting."

"You know that I hate the little pretended queen as much as you do," Lanore snapped. "But there are boundaries that I will never cross!"

"Well, you're lucky, then, that you have a brother who is willing to cross them for you. Or you can think of it as letting Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen proceed with their own plan which was trusting the man," Gillerd suggested, smiling sardonically. His sister's sensitivity on this particular issue irked him, not because of these unpleasant and completely misplaced pangs of conscience but because they revealed how raw the wounds from her first childless marriage still were.

"She is no Targaryen!" Lanore said angrily. "Really, even in Dorne we know the answer between a wife and a paramour… although paramours have more dignity than parading around insisting that they're wives. Still doesn't make it right."

"It absolutely does," Loreza cut in. "I am with Gillerd."

Now, two faces turned to her, their family relation obvious in their expression of astonishment but in Gillerd's case, it was soon followed by devil delight that had once infuriated her when other girls had found it charming.

"I can't believe it," Lanore finally whispered. "For any of you. You have never been this vengeful, Loreza, and you have always abhorred such things, Gillerd. And now, you're talking about subjecting a human being to dark magic."

"Not in our case, Lanore," Loreza insisted. "You're talking about subjecting a human being and dark magic… and I know why you're doing this. But these two are no humans. I don't know what they are but they are not not human. A human being can't use his own children as hostages, leaving them in the power of a madman who hates them. A human being can't walk over the corpses of her own father and brother to climb to a throne."

Lanore hesitated. Seeing this, Loreza pounced on her weakness. "And the Seven see that I am tired of us saving the woman - yes, she is a woman if we count by her years and it isn't our fault that her father did not do his duty by her and then released her on Westeros insisting that she was a lady already! Really, why does it always fall on us to tend her and save her from her own mistakes? At least Doran had a reason for forcing Aunt Ranna to save her life. What reason do we have to interfere with the plans of the man she wanted more than she wanted her family alive has for her? Do we have to save her from him as well? I don't think so!"

Lanore shook her head. "I don't care about her at all. But this is too much. There are things that one should not play with."

"Yes, like marriages," Gillerd put in. "Yet these two did not hesitate to break Elia's. If Rhaegar Targaryen is ready to leave one wife at the tender care of maesters after he saw the mistake they made with another one, it's his problem. My wife and child have suffered for having a reckless fool for husband and father and I see no reason why his little love and her children should be spared the consequences of his choice!"

Lanore's hesitation increased. She licked her lips and looked from one to the other. Loreza grabbed her hands. "One day, he will realize that the three heads of the dragon Elia told us about will never come from this girl's womb, Lanore. And he's already getting annoyed with her. What do you think is going to happen then? When all she has will be this child who doesn't even look like Targaryen? When her despair grows? There will be someone who will take the life of Elia's Aegon to curry favour with her, if not on her expressed order! And Rhaegar will have to pretend that it was not so, else his own position will become even more precarious because he has put a murderess on the throne! She didn't care about her own kin's lives – do you think she's going to care about Elia's children's? This is what is going to happen – why don't you believe me, by the Seven!"

"I do believe you," Lanore breathed, her mouth dry. "I just… I've been longing for a child for so long. I can't imagine knowing that I am the reason my child is damaged."

"Rhaegar Targaryen dealt with this knowledge pretty well," Gillerd said casually. "When he left his children here to use them against Dorne. But sure, keep taking care of him and his wolf wife. After all, nothing this bad can happen to Elia and her children. She even survived the Mad King. You seem to trust her abilities about as much as Rhaegar did. I am sure she's going to be flattered…"

The mocking in his voice was meant to cut deep under the skin. Lanore knew it, knew that letting Lyanna Stark give birth to a severely malformed baby, the way Lanore's own mother had, was wrong and still their words got to her. Why should Dorne protect this selfish, cruel girl from the fate she and Rhaegar Targaryen kept bringing upon themselves? Everyone knew about the girl's displays of anger each time he as much as asked in a letter how Elia's children were – why should Lanore show any compassion to someone devoid of all compassion?

Dark sorcery. Did the girl know? Lanore had almost decided to seek it herself, more than once. She could not imagine having done it – and ending up with a child who suffered because of her choice.

Like Elia's children who were too young to understand how monstrously their father had dealt with them. He had already known that he was going to discard them when he had left them in his father's hands as hostages against Dorne.

"Let's… let's talk again tomorrow," she said.

There was a flash of triumph in her brother's eyes but it quickly went away. He looked at Loreza. "Can we talk?"

"No," she said coldly and his face fell. "Don't think that I have become like you, Gillerd. This is a single case of accord with your… not so attractive part. You promised me that you'd never use your hands before your head again, never again once we said the vows. And you reneged on it, and look where it got us. I am not going to forget just because we happen to agree in this instance."

She kissed Lanore's cheek and went out without deigning to look at Gillerd. For a while, he watched at her and then back at his sister with his cheeky smile that felt somewhat hollow. "Tomorrow," he said. "Perhaps I'll have a better luck tomorrow."

"With dark sorcery?" Lanore asked bitingly. "Are you going to employ this Qyburn to assist you win Loreza back and do you know at all what future you have in mind?"

But the next day, Loreza was no more willing to talk to him about them more than before. And Maester Qyburn was nowhere to be found.

"We and Tywin Lannister had scared him away!" Loreza groaned. "Now, he'll be free to do his evil thing to who know how many unsuspecting people!"

Now, even Lanore wished that the disgraced maester had just gone along with Gillerd's plan. But of course, it was too late. Qyburn was now away of anyone's eye. And it was partly their fault.

* * *

"Are you going to wed him?"

Elia looked at Jason Mallister, who had been watching her watch Arthur, and frowned. "Why, are you going to wed Naeryn?"

"I can't," he said. "There are too many obstacles… at least sixteen highborn families in Seagard will be offended that I chose Naeryn instead of their daughters. My wife's family is in position to make it hard for any sons that she might give me since they will be displacing Daena. The septon is extremely devout. He believes that everything we suffer is kind of punishment and Naeryn will be publicly humiliated when he forbids her to enter the sept. I…"

He stopped when he saw Elia's smile. "You knew I couldn't wed her," he said.

"I wanted to know if you have thought about this at all," Elia replied.

They were now seated near the private pools meant only for the Prince of Dorne and his family. Elia was still breathing a little heavily after a long swimming and her dark hair dripped, a pool forming around her. Jason had long ago learned not to pay attention to the breastbands and the piece of cloth covering the women's hips, although at the beginning, he had wondered where he should look to escape them. Still in the water, Arthur held little Aegon at the surface as the child splashed about. Jason had heard that he was trying to teach the little one swim. His success was limited this time but it had not stopped him from trying and Elia smiled as she watched them, yet whenever she turned to Jason, her eyes were serious. "There aren't many powerful lords in their own right who wish to wed Naeryn," she said. "They worship her and are happy to be with her but that's it."

" Then, there are many powerful lords who are fools," Jason replied, shamefully happy about this fact. The very thought that another man had touched Naeryn made him see red; to think that she might have wed anyone else, thus becoming unavailable for him, was too much.

Elia was still smiling. "You are quite something, are you not?" she said. "I don't think Naeryn had ever been as infatuated as anyone as she is with you. She has never been with anyone in the Water Gardens."

The truth was that Jason was at the Water Gardens because he was kin to the Martells but it still made him inordinately pleased to hear that Naeryn had never brought anyone over here. Still, what use was there to pore over something that could not be? He stared at Naeryn's lithe form sprawled on the surface of the water, her silver hair flowing like a cloud around her, and felt a surge of desire that made him feel pleased that Elia was not looking at him. But when Daena called over, Naeryn swam back to the edge and emerged to go to her, like a mother would have. _I have to leave quickly,_ Jason thought and looked around for his sister. Amabel was about to become Stannis Baratheon's bride and Jason was becoming increasingly concerned about the way she seemed to have adopted to the Dornish style of life. Who could say that she would not decide to take it a step further with Morgan Sand, Elia's bastard cousin? Just Elia who assured him that Morgan was not interested. What if he became interested?

Elia's serene expression disappeared as she stared at the children and Jason recognized her worry. While Daena had recovered from the fever from about a month ago extremely well, Rhaenys had started to behave like a much younger child and it was obvious to everyone who knew her. She no longer ran and had some trouble keeping her balance. Compared to Daena who was hopping around and trying to go into the water, she looked alarmingly listless.

Elia rose and headed for the children. Instead of running towards her, Rhaenys only extended her arms, signaling that her mother should take her. Elia obliged and carried her towards the white building. Jason shook his head and wished that the child recovered her health soon enough.

In her chambers, Elia quickly threw a robe on and crossed the jade courtyard. As she left the private wing for the public parts, she saw Oberyn who immediately realized what she was doing. He approached her and nodded at Rhaenys but she only shook her head wildly and clung to her mother. "I think it'll be better if I carry her," Elia said, although just two months ago, her daughter had been happy to ride the shoulders of every man willing to take her there.

Maester Caleotte sighed when he saw her enter his study. He could hardly tell her more than he already had. They needed to wait. He did all the things he was expected to – examined Rhaenys, checked her reflexes – now uncoordinated – tried to make her follow the direction of his finger but he did it more for Princess Elia's benefit, rather than any real expectation that something, anything would come out of it.

"So she's still hiding her eyes the moment she comes out into the sun?" he asked, wondering if the damage could be a lasting one. He had never heard of a fever affecting the eyes but who knew. It was an insidious thing. For someone as dark-skinned as the little princess, the sun should not be a problem, yet she acted as if it now burned her terribly. And she had lost the progress with reading that she had been making.

"Yes," Elia replied. "Are you telling me that nothing can be done?"

"We must keep her as comfortable as possible," Maester Caleotte replied because it was somehow better than saying _yes_.

"Thank you, Maester Caleotte," Elia said in a perfectly level voice, with a gracious smile, a lady to the marrow of her bones. She headed for the door and the old maester was painfully reminded that nothing remained changed forever. For how many years had he been sitting here, listening to Elia's mother's concerns about her little girl? Now, Elia had become her mother and Maester Caleotte hoped that the miracle would come for her, like it had come for the Princess of Dorne.

Ser Arthur came to her as soon as she opened the door. Without his white cloak, his fair hair still shining in the shadows, he was as different from Alric Gargalen as possible, yet the movement that he reached for the child was also reminiscent of times long gone. Rhaenys went to him and snuggled without protest and Princess Elia closed the door, hiding the three of them from the Maester's view.

 


End file.
